A Darkness Forged in Fire

by Chris (chris R. ) Evans

  Flame from a torch guttered and flared briefly, illuminating the area in front of him. An elf stood there, its black ear tip an obsidian beacon in the night. It held a longbow ready in its hands. Hunger…rage…anguish…extremes of emotion radiated outward from the elf, all of them driven by something bitter and vengeful. They had been left on the plains to die, mere babies, abandoned by their tribe. Death should have found them; a ravening wolf, carrion birds, a hunting dragon. But She found them, and took them for Her own, creating the dyskara, the tainted ones.

  Brilliant black eyes glittered, searching, hunting. Konowa knew they looked for him. He would not bend his knee to Her, so he would die.

  Bows creaked as their strings were pulled back, arrows of dark and wicked creation aimed straight at his heart. Lorian shouted at the regiment to fire. The elf hissed between its teeth.

  Powder sparked.

  Bowstrings sang.

  Musket balls and arrows criss-crossed the open ground. Konowa waited for the impact, wondering what his death would feel like. Sudden warmth spread over him, and he recognized the sensation of elfkynan magic.

  They were trying to protect him.

  The surprise was still registering in his mind when the arrows hit.

  "We've got to get in there!" Yimt shouted, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his shatterbow. They stood at the edge of the forest looking out across the open ground to the unnatural black wall that barred them from Luuguth Jor. Musket fire crackled amid screams and howls, but the dark trees blocked everything except the rough outline of the fort atop the hill.

  Alwyn fidgeted with the strap on his musket, his enthusiasm not as strong. He'd still go, he didn't care how scared he was—and he was terrified—but he was in no rush to do it. Surprisingly, Miss Red Owl didn't seem overly eager, either.

  "Patience, master dwarf," Chayii said, her fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from her eye. "The sarka har have created a wall that is not easily broached. They are preparing a new forest for Her. The ground grows cold as the roots delve deep. A moment's thought now may bear fruit long after."

  Yimt's right eyebrow shot up as he stomped over to the elf. "And I think the time for thinking is over. That's our regiment in there, and we're going in. If you folk don't want any part of it, fine, but you aren't stopping us."

  Teeter and Scolly nodded while Inkermon stared blankly ahead, his ruined book still clutched in his hand. Alwyn heard many bowstrings grow taut around them. Miss Red Owl glared down at the dwarf, then smiled.

  "It is not my intent to stop you," Chayii said, shaking her head slightly. The bowstrings relaxed, but arrows remained notched. "In speaking with the others, it is clear to me that we fight the same foe, and allies against Her will are a welcome boon. Still, a little prudence would not be out of place. How will we get through?"

  "We can hack our…" Yimt trailed off as his hand grasped only air when he reached for his drukar. He huffed, but finally nodded. "Fine, what do you have in mind?"

  In answer, Chayii held out her hand, palm up. The flying squirrel suddenly flew out of the night to land gently on it, swiveling its ears with every musket shot. She spoke to it, her voice the perfect imitation of its squeaking. It twitched its nose and jumped onto her shoulder, waiting.

  "It seems, master dwarf, that I have need of a favor," Chayii said. "Is your skill with your weapon as good as you claim?"

  Yimt looked suspicious. "You mean Lil' Nipper? You saw what I did in the forest to that beastie."

  Chayii nodded. "A good shot from a short distance, but I am talking about a much longer distance now, over the sarka har."

  Yimt looked past her toward the battle. "I suppose I could get a shot over them from here if I use one of them black arrows. But I can't see what I'm shooting at on the other side of the trees."

  "You'll be aiming at the next ball of flame," she said, making a graceful arc with her hand mimicking the flight of a howitzer shell.

  Yimt started shaking his head vigorously. "That'd be like threading an orc through a needle. You're the woodland folk. I'd have bet real money that one of your lot could do something like that."

  Chayii shook her head. "A few could, though it would be a difficult shot, to be sure. But what we need to do is redirect one of those balls of flame so that it lands among the sarka har. We will then have our passageway."

  "It's a nifty idea, Miss Red Owl, but it will never work," Yimt said. "An arrow would never have the power to knock a howitzer shell off course, and even if it did, there's no way of telling where it might land. We could do more harm than good."

  "You won't be shooting an arrow," she said.

  Alwyn looked from Miss Red Owl to Yimt's shatterbow, then back to Miss Red Owl, where the squirrel was sitting up on its haunches, its eyes wide as it looked up into the sky.

  Oh.

  "Miss Red Owl, I like the way your mind works," Yimt said, putting it together at the same time. "Is the little fellow some kind of magical familiar?" "My husband, actually," Chayii said, ignoring the looks of astonishment. "He has a tendency to forget himself on occasion, and it so happens that will work in our favor now."

  Alwyn watched Yimt carefully, waiting. The dwarf scratched his beard, clearly thinking this over. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever you say."

  Tyul suddenly appeared, his leafy camouflage rustling as he came to stand beside Yimt. He said nothing, only staring at the dwarf, his tattooed face unreadable. Chayii said something to him in elvish, but Tyul gave no indication of listening, his gaze remained fixed on Yimt.

  "Maybe he'd like to do it?" Yimt ventured, trying to smile at the elf, but giving up when he got no response. "I mean, no offense, but I've never shot anyone's husband before…in this way."

  Chayii smiled. "In this case, your weapon is better suited to the task, and he would not touch it though the need is great."

  "Okay, then, but just remember," Yimt said, clearly at pains to make sure this was really what she wanted, "I'm only doing this because you asked me to."

  Yimt placed the end of the shatterbow on the ground and pulled back on the heavy bowstring, grunting with the strain. He hoisted it up and looked at Alwyn.

  "Be a sport, Ally," he said, pointing to a spot a few feet away.

  Alwyn dutifully walked to Yimt and bent over, allowing Yimt to rest the shatterbow across his back. The position was painful, and Alwyn hoped he wouldn't have to hold it for long.

  "Ready when he is," Yimt said, sighting down the shatterbow. The squirrel chirped once and jumped the short distance to land on Alwyn's shako. He sniffed it, then quickly crawled onto his back and up onto the shatterbow, pausing to sniff different parts of it. Apparently satisfied, the squirrel settled in at the rear of the weapon, all four paws clutching the heavy string, its shoulders hunched high around its head.

  Alwyn saw a bush beside him and realized Tyul had moved to stand right beside Yimt again.

  "Don't squirm, Ally, you don't want me firing this poor critter…elf, into the trees instead of over them."

  The bush that was Tyul moved slightly, and Alwyn forced himself to remain very, very still. He took deep, slow breaths and hoped the howitzer would fire soon. As if in response, a familiar boom echoed from within the trees and a moment later a trail of sparks arced skyward.

  "Happy landings," Yimt said, and squeezed the trigger. The bowstring hummed, flinging the squirrel into the air.

  The vibration of the shot traveled up and down Alwyn's spine. He looked up to see where the squirrel was, but it was impossible to tell. He focused on the howitzer shell instead as it rose higher into the air.

  This will never work.

  "Your powers as a seer need more work, Alwyn of the Empire," Chayii said.

  Alwyn jumped and looked again at the howitzer shell. It had reached its apex and was now falling back to earth. Was it drifting? Alwyn blinked. Yes, the trail of sparks was definitely coming down at a different angle than when it went up. It sounded like thunder and looked like l
ightning bursting from the earth when it landed. When Alwyn's night vision returned he saw a gaping hole in the black mass that surrounded Luuguth Jor.

  "Do you think the little squirrel is okay?" Scolly asked, coming up to stand beside Tyul. The elf didn't answer, instead turning and disappearing into the night toward the opening.

  "Load your muskets and fix bayonets," Yimt said. He was already pulling the bowstring back on his shatterbow. "Now let's go find out."

  FIFTY-ONE

  Focus, my dear, or a lot of people are going to get hurt," Rallie said, laying a hand on her shoulder. Visyna felt an immediate rush, the weariness in her lifting, but not all the way.

  "I don't know how much longer I can do this!" Visyna said, trying to ignore the sights and sounds of battle. She stood just behind the crumbled wall of the fort where the remaining Iron Elves fired down at the marauding rakkes. Her attention had to be on the diminishing circle of elfkynan, but it was hard not to watch Konowa and Lorian and the Iron Elves make their way up to the fortress. Shades now stalked the battleground, their blades afire with black flame, and she had no more energy left to deal with them.

  Her fingers wove and rewove the fabric of the natural order, mending ever-bigger tears as she fought to keep the elfkynan safe.

  "You're doing fine, my child," Rallie said, her gruff voice a soothing lifeline in a sea of noise.

  "I could use some help," Visyna said. Thus far, Rallie had done little more than stand beside her, puffing on a cigar and sketching the battle in a notebook.

  "Help, I think, is on the way," Rallie replied.

  A volley of musket fire rattled and cracked in front of them, the smell of sulfur stinging her eyes. Prince Tykkin strode into view, the wings on his shako flapping as he paced back and forth behind the firing line.

  "The Star is here, I can feel it," he said, looking around the fort. Musket fire, arrows, and tumbling splinters of wood filled the air, and blood trees writhed and stabbed their limbs at any flesh that got too close. "A gold coin to the soldier who finds the Star! A hundred gold coins!"

  "Go find it yourself, you bloody fool!" a soldier shouted back, but it was impossible to see who amid all the confusion.

  The Prince sputtered with rage, drawing his sword, then resheathing it, only to draw it again. "Witch! I demand that you find me the Star. Perform whatever magic you must and you will be well rewarded."

  Visyna considered striking the Prince down where he stood, but knew that to do so would be to condemn the elfkynan to death. It was her weaving that was protecting her countrymen.

  "Put it away, Your Highness," Rallie said, waving a hand at him. "The girl is rather busy at the moment."

  "Very well, then I shall lead a charge myself to finish this battle so that the search can continue. Color party! Prepare to charge!"

  Sergeant Salia Aguom looked at the Prince, then over at Rallie. Visyna spared the briefest of looks. Would he do it?

  "With all due respect, Your Highness," Rallie said, "that would be tantamount to killing the future King, and I cannot allow that to happen. Your mother would be most displeased with me."

  "My mother be damned!" the Prince shouted, walking forward to rest one foot on the edge of the wall. "I will have the Star this night!"

  Sergeant Aguom sighed and followed, the rest of the Color party reluctantly forming up with him. It appalled Visyna that men would throw away their lives in such a foolish manner.

  A new force washed over the battlefield, its evil unmistakable. Visyna kept her hands moving even as she saw the Shadow Monarch's elves emerge from the trees. There was a growl behind her and Jir loped up onto the crumbled parapet and got down low on his stomach, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.

  "Rallie, do something," Visyna whispered, wishing she could do more herself.

  Rallie frowned, then pulled the cigar from her mouth and whistled between her teeth. Jir looked at her, then turned back to the battlefield, settling his body even lower in preparation to pounce. Rallie whistled again, much louder, and the bengar reluctantly came down from the parapet and padded over to her, his tail swishing in agitation.

  Visyna couldn't hear what Rallie said to the bengar, but she felt a tremor in the skeins of power as the woman spoke. A moment later, Jir disappeared back into the fortress.

  "I meant to do something to stop this," Visyna said, her frustration boiling up.

  Somewhere behind them a muraphant trumpeted, the call picked up by the others. The ground began to shake beneath Visyna's feet.

  The muraphants were stampeding.

  Soldiers dove out of the way as the animals burst from their temporary corral and rumbled through the fortress and over a low spot in the wall. Out of the corner of her eye, Visyna saw Jir clutching the rear of the last muraphant as it ran past, the bengar's eyes quite wide.

  The arrival of the great beasts on the battlefield had an immediate effect. Any rakkes unfortunate enough to be in their path were trampled into oblivion. Visyna saw Jir jump from his ride and momentarily lost him in the confusion. The muraphants kept going, passing between the Iron Elves' square and the elfkynan circle as they made for the remembered gap by the river, their only thought to flee. The bara jogg opened their mouths wide in anticipation and were crushed by the maddened herd. The muraphants kept going, only to be stopped by a new wall of trees that closed the road and their escape.

  The bengar reappeared, running straight for the nearest dark elf Konowa, but a rakke blocked its way. The rakke's throat was torn out with a single swipe of the bengar's claws. Jir ran on, but more rakkes moved to intercept him.

  Just then another howitzer shell lifted into the night sky, the familiar trail of sparks like a comet crossing the heavens. Visyna sensed something odd, and saw from the corner of her eye the shell alter course to come down among the ring of sarka har. White light burst forth and then was gone. The muraphants thundered toward the gap.

  Rallie blew out a long stream of smoke, nodding to herself. "No need, my dear, no need. Someone beat me to it."

  FIFTY-TWO

  Stay close, Ally; same goes for the rest of you," Yimt said. He jogged toward the gap in the trees.

  "Sweet knobby-kneed nuns!" he shouted, turning and running back toward them. He grabbed Alwyn by the cross-belts and heaved him to the side as muraphants burst through the gap in the trees and into the open.

  Alwyn got up spitting dirt and cautiously peered into the gap. The elves of the Long Watch slipped through with ease, their bows humming as arrows streaked across the field.

  "Okay, let's try that again," Yimt said, his voice a little quieter than normal. He led them through the wreckage of the sarka har and onto the battlefield. Alwyn gasped as he stepped through the trees, both at the cold and at what he saw. Of all the nightmares he had had or would ever have, nothing would match this.

  Bodies, of all kinds, littered the ground. Bara jogg of immense size heaved themselves over the earth, consuming anything that lay in their path. Shadows flitted in and out of sight, blazing swords of ugly black flame spraying hoar frost with every thrust and parry. A branch on one of the sarka har stabbed down at Alwyn, its razor-edged leaves slashing the arm of his jacket, but not the flesh beneath.

  "You must be alert to the dangers around you," Chayii said, suddenly appearing at his elbow. She held a long, thin sword in her hand and used it to cut the branch off with a quick flick of her wrist. Black ichor sprayed from the tree's wound, and a scream sounded somewhere in Alwyn's head. He looked down at the gleaming wooden sword, still amazed that something made of wood could be so sharp. The weapon glowed warmly, its surface polished smoother than marble, the deep browns of the grain pulsing with energy.

  Something distant tugged at Alwyn's consciousness and made him turn. It was as if the world had suddenly been connected, each thing, each emotion, a tiny piece of an immense puzzle, and all connected to one another. There were no words, but he understood the threat.

  Fifty yards away, one of the bl
ack elves stared at Chayii. It obviously sensed the power in the weapon and knew it for what it was. It hissed Hynta-reig, and Alwyn knew, in the way he had known back in the forest, that the words meant the elves of the deep forest, the abandoners. He felt the long-borne hatred that coursed through the elf as it pulled back the string on its bow. So great was its fury that it failed to see Yimt aiming his shatterbow at it.

  The shatterbow fired first. The elf was taken in the chest by two black arrows of its own making. The fingers holding the string went slack, loosing the arrow even as the elf fell lifeless to the ground.

  Alwyn reached out for Miss Red Owl and pushed her forward, stumbling after her. The black arrow tore through the leather cartridge pouch on his hip, the cloth of his caerna, and finally the flesh beneath. He felt his thigh bone break as he hit the ground, a scream blown from his lungs.

  "Ally's hit!" Boots thudded on the ground, hands grabbed him and rolled him over. He was aware of slashes of light and crushing darkness. Elvish words drifted through to him and he latched on to them, understanding they were a lifeline. The sound of his blood pumping roared in his ears. The pain in his leg dug a little deeper each time. A voice whispered in his head, calling him, seeking control.

  "I'm sorry, Yimt, I'm so sorry," he said, not knowing why. The pain and the cold were consuming him. He looked down at his left leg, at the black arrow stuck there, high above the knee, its steel-leaf fletching already growing as the shaft pulsed with his blood. A tourniquet was cinched tight around his upper thigh, but he could feel the cold trying to seep beyond it and into the rest of his body.

  "Nothing to apologize for, lad," Yimt said, leaning over him, the end of his beard just inches from Alwyn's face. The dwarf turned and looked at someone nearby. "Do your magic! Get that thing out of him! You did it before!"

  Chayii came into view, shaking her head. "It has already taken root, and he is still weak from the last one. To try to reverse it now would put too much strain on him. I fear he would not survive."