"Is that wise?" Lorian asked, cringing as a horse screamed in terror. Both Zwindarra and the elfkynan horse reacted, their ears pricking forward, the whites of their eyes showing. Lorian got up to look over the wall as the elfkynan cavalry made another futile charge. Konowa reluctantly followed suit, watching with sadness as hooves flashed through the red water, crushing skulls as the horses panicked and tried to run away. Unlike their riders, the animals had no illusions of immortality and paradise.
Konowa looked up at the sky and was surprised to see the sun already beginning to dip behind the fortress on the hill. "We don't have a choice. We do it now or we'll be fighting in the dark, and that's something I'd like to avoid."
Lorian finally turned away from the carnage and looked at Konowa. His eyes were rimmed with red, his face grime covered and pale. "Are you sure this will work?"
Konowa felt a cold surge as the acorn against his chest reminded him of what real power was. "One way to find out," he said, moving away from the wall and calling to the Color party. A small, fierce-looking sergeant followed by three large, equally fierce-looking corporals all brandishing halberds marched up with the regimental Color. Both the Queen's Color and that of the Prince were flying over the fortress.
"Sergeant Salia Aguom an' Color party reporting, sir!" the Color sergeant said. He saluted smartly, the flagstaff held comfortably against his left shoulder. He was one of the few siggers with black skin in the regiment, no doubt a volunteer from the Empire's southern conquests in the Timolia Island chain. Konowa knew the Timolia regiments to be fearsome warriors, an ethos developed over centuries of battling the red orcs of Winamaruk for control of the islands. From the battle scars on Aguom's face, it was clear the Color sergeant lived that tradition.
"I need you to fall back to where the wounded are and get the rest up to the fortress, then signal the retreat," Konowa said.
"At once, sir!" he said, saluting and marching away, the three corporals following close behind like a group of tavern strongmen hired to keep the rowdy at bay, which, in a way, was precisely their job…just with deadlier intent.
"I hope this works," Lorian said, watching the Color party move up the hill.
"We'll make it work," Konowa said, a growing confidence spreading through him. "This battle will be over shortly."
"And what will happen then, Major?" Rallie asked, appearing behind him and Lorian as if from thin air. A particularly large cigar was clamped firmly between her teeth, its smoke more pungent than usual.
"It will get dark," Konowa remarked, not wishing to get dragged into another conversation he had no answers for. "Where is Visyna?"
Rallie clucked and took the cigar out of her mouth, neatly stepping to one side as two arrows sliced through the place she had stood a moment before. A cannon boomed, the momentary silence after its shot followed by fewer elfkynan screams. "Tending the wounded up at the fortress. She is an angel, to hear the boys tell it. Many lives will be owed to her before the end of the day."
Konowa nodded, surprising Rallie and Lorian. "She'll probably do more good than we will. Tell her that whatever she needs, she gets. I want them given the best care possible."
Rallie and Lorian shared a look. "I will be most happy to convey that message, Major. And I sincerely hope there will be little more for her to do this day, though my heart tells me otherwise," she said, drawing deeply on her cigar as she eyed not the elfkynan army, but the ring of trees that surrounded them.
"Tell her…tell her I said thank you," Konowa said, his cheeks suddenly growing hot.
"I will, but make sure you're around to tell her yourself, too, when this is over," Rallie said, patting his arm, then leaving him and Lorian.
Konowa turned and saw Lorian staring at him. "Don't ask. Now, let's get this over with." They took the reins from a very relieved private, who scurried back to find some cover. Konowa climbed into the saddle, very aware of just how high off the ground he was as he looked down at Lorian on his smaller horse. Zwindarra tossed his head but remained calm.
"You volunteered for the cavalry?" Konowa asked, urging Zwindarra into a walk.
Lorian smiled, the first time in a while. "Major, it's the only way to fight. You feel that power of the horse beneath you, the wind in your face…it's magicalwell, the kind of magic I understand," he added.
"You sound like the Duke," Konowa replied, shaking his head. "I never really have understood the relationship between a cavalryman and his horse."
Lorian nodded toward the fortress. "Some people might say the same about an officer and his bengar."
It was Konowa's turn to smile.
An arrow sliced down between the horses, spooking Lorian's slightly. "Signal the Color party," Konowa ordered.
Lorian tied a thin red pennant to his halberd and raised it high, waving it back and forth. A moment later a bugle sounded. The two platoons of C Company assigned to hold outside the ring of trees began an orderly retreat through the gap. As soon as they passed through, the other platoons started to give way slowly. It was apparent by their steps that they disagreed with the order. They had fought long and hard to hold the gap and had seen some friends die for it. And they were winning. The elfkynan charged and fell back only to charge again, their progress slowed by the mounting pile of bodies that littered the ground in front of the Iron Elves.
"They aren't pulling back fast enough," Lorian said, leaning forward in the saddle toward the gap.
Konowa gritted his teeth, silently urging the siggers on. He understood their feeling, but they had to make this look real.
There was a roar from beyond the trees and a group of elfkynan cavalry charged through the gap, their mioxja whistling as they swung them over their heads. They galloped headlong toward the retreating siggers. The five-pounder closest to the gap fired into their center, bowling over half a dozen horses and sending several more reeling. The momentum of two of the horses carried them another fifteen yards, stumbling into the line of Iron Elves and knocking several down. The soldiers quickly got up and reformed, but the damage had been done. Instead of one single line pulling back there was now a break, and the two halves began to pull apart as they retreated, creating a gap between them. The elfkynan following on foot saw their chance and ran headlong for the gap, seeing a chance to roll up the entire defensive line along the riverbank.
"Follow me!" Konowa shouted, drawing his saber and kicking Zwindarra with his heels. The horse neighed, leaped forward, and came close to unseating him now that he was holding the reins with only one hand.
The elfkynan were pushing the gap wider apart. Smoke bloomed from the front row of the Iron Elves and elfkynan tumbled and fell, but more came rushing through the gap, and there was now no time to reload. Another charge by the elfkynan cavalry would carry them through and behind the soldiers still holding the positions on the river. The acorn against his chest stabbed him with ice, spurring him on. He turned briefly to see Lorian galloping beside him, the point of his halberd lowered like a lance.
"Hold, you bastards, hold!" Konowa shouted, taking Zwindarra straight through the gap and into a group of elfkynan, who threw up their hands in surprise as the huge black horse came at them. Konowa brought his saber down on an elfkynan's arm, severing it at the elbow. Black frost sparkled on the wound and Konowa felt the familiar cold fury grip him. Zwindarra reared and flailed his hooves at two elfkynan in front of them, the sound of his steel shoes against skull bone loud and jarring.
Elfkynan screamed in pain and blood sprayed skyward. A mioxja whistled past Konowa's ear and he turned in the saddle and swung across his body, missing the elfkynan and almost cutting Zwindarra in the flanks. The force of the swing had him toppling out of the saddle, but Zwindarra shifted beneath him and he remained seated. The mioxja whipped the air again, the razor-sharp blades of jimik grass severing one of the wings of his shako. Zwindarra's head shot to the side and he bit the elfkynan in the stomach, lifting the screaming man into the air and shaking him. When Zwindarra let go, the
elfkynan's innards lay strewn on the ground.
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.
FORTY-EIGHT
Alwyn 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 treeswell, 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.
"I'm not crazy, Corporal," Alwyn said, glaring down at the dwarf.
Yimt's shoulders started shaking and before long he was laughing so hard he had to stop walking. Alwyn looked around nervously, but nothing that might want to eat them appeared.
"Ally, you don't know how glad I am to hear you say that. I thought maybe I'd cracked my crystal ball," he said, rapping his skull with his knuckles.
It wa
s the last answer Alwyn expected. "I don't understand."
Yimt looked up at him, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Neither do I, Ally, but I've been hearing trees in my head, too. I thought I'd finally gone over the edge, but if you're hearing them, then either we're both a few stones short of a castle, or everything you've been saying might just be true."
The sound of running feet and branches being swatted aside heralded the arrival of Scolly, who came to a halt before them, struggling to catch his breath.
"Oh, now look, laddie," Yimt said, his good humor disappearing at the sight of the soldier, "if you ask me one more time if we're there yet, I swear I'll be lacing my boots with your tongue."
Scolly shook his head and pointed back down the path, still trying to catch his breath. Alwyn walked a few steps past him and then heard it.
"No, Yimt," he said, as the boom of a five-pounder echoed through the forest, "he's trying to tell us we've finally arrived."
Visyna shivered and hunched her shoulders, trying to keep her focus on the wounded soldier before her as her fingers danced through the skeins of life. Musket fire popped and crackled down the hill, intermixed with the screams of the dying. She felt each death like rain on bare skin, each blending with the other until their pain and fear washed away everything else. And yet here she was, tending the very men who were inflicting that suffering on her people.
Her fingers paused, the beat of the soldier's heart palpable in her hands. She could let him die. He was a soldier of the Empire, a tool of oppression and death, and worse, bound to the regiment in a way that frightened her. She had first noticed something wrong when she had tried to help the soldier named Meri in the vines. Then, she had put it down to the general malaise that stalked the land, a vague stain that did not yet pose an immediate threat. She knew better now. This was Her doing, and Konowa had been the means, even if he meant well.
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