by Chris Evans
“Why is it green?” Chayii asked, her words coming out slightly slurred.
“Ah, well, as you might have guessed, we don’t have any rat dragons on board. Honestly, what kind of vessel goes to sea without a good supply of rat dragon in its stores? I checked with the cook, that one-armed fellow with the glass eye and peg leg, but while he’s got barrels of salted pork, salted beef, salted goat, and I swear salted salt, not one of rat dragon. He did, however, point out that the ship had a large supply of regular rats.”
Visyna knew the color in her face was now gone. “You mean…”
Yimt crossed his heart. “Regular rats in a stew? Me mum’d have me strung up by my ears. Not on your life. Nope, I hung a line off the back of the front there and caught me a few fish. At least they looked like fish, sort of. They were a bright blue when I hauled ’em on board, but looks like they go green when you put the heat to them. Oh, and I did add a little drake sweat to sort of bring out the flavors,” he said, indicating a small canteen filled with the stone-eating home brew.
While he was talking, Yimt kept casting glances at Rallie, who had yet to speak. Visyna had been watching her too, worried she might topple over.
“That,” Rallie began, then had to stop as she blinked and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. “That, Sergeant Arkhorn, is without a doubt the most divine stew it has ever been my good fortune to taste. You, my dear sir, are a chef of sublime talent.”
Visyna looked at Chayii and saw her mouth was as agape as hers.
“You like it?” Chayii asked.
“Like it? I want to tear off my clothes and go swimming in it!” Rallie said, taking a proffered bowl from Yimt and holding it steady while he ladled out a steaming helping. If there was any doubt, she began to spoon the stew into her mouth while making soft moaning sounds. Through mouthfuls Visyna heard words like “brilliant,” “exquisite,” and several more she wasn’t sure were ever appropriate for describing food.
Yimt beamed like a father seeing his newborn child for the first time. “You are too sweet by half, Ms. Synjyn. You honor this old warhorse. I can’t tell you how it warms my heart to hear you say that.”
Rallie smiled back at him and raised her spoon in salute. “My compliments to the chef. You are as enticing as your wares.”
A word jumped into Visyna’s mind, and no matter how hard she tried, she could not shake it loose. By all that was holy, Rallie and Yimt were flirting.
She was saved from further contemplation of the subject by the telltale thump of Private Renwar’s wooden leg on the ship’s deck. Alwyn limped up and stopped short when he saw the pot. His hand went to his mouth, but he quickly recovered.
“Good evening, ladies,” he said, barely looking at them as he kept a wary eye on the bubbling pot. “Major Swift Dragon sends his compliments and asks that Miss Red Owl, Miss Tekoy, and Miss Synjyn join him on the quarterdeck.”
“You two run along,” Rallie said, waving them away as she held out her now-empty bowl for a refill. “Tell the major I’m still formulating my thoughts on the events of earlier. When I’ve had time to marshal them, I shall seek him out.”
Visyna looked at Chayii, who nodded. “Thank you, Yimt of the Warm Breeze. In the brief time we have traveled the same path, you have never once ceased to amaze.”
Yimt grinned a metallic smile, his pewter-colored teeth shining in the firelight. “One more compliment like that and I’ll blush,” he said, casually turning his gaze to Visyna.
“I can think of no higher one than to say it’s a shame we’ve been called away and won’t be able to stay and eat with you,” she said. She stood a little straighter and smiled, pleased with another quick reaction. It was an effort to keep her smile there a moment later.
“Well, that settles it. I am officially tickled,” Yimt said. He produced two more bowls and quickly ladled them full. Rallie helpfully took them and handed one each to Chayii and Visyna. Rallie’s eyes positively sparkled as she bade them farewell.
“How is your leg, Alwyn of the Empire?” Chayii asked as the three of them navigated the deck toward the middle of the ship and the bridge. “Your balance appears much improved.”
Alwyn nodded. He lifted the hem of his caerna slightly so that the women could see his wooden leg better. Where the magically woven wood wrapped around the stump of his leg, the flesh was bright red. A flicker of frost fire jumped from his skin to the wood, but the wood, burnished until it shone like warm brass, pulsed with a soft energy that quenched the flame before it could take hold.
“Looks like my new leg and my old one don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
“Is there much pain?” Visyna said, kneeling beside him and beginning to weave the air in front of her. Alwyn gently but firmly pushed her hands away. She stood back up.
“It helps me, if that makes sense. When things start to get too confusing, I can concentrate on the pain and block out everything else, at least for a while.”
Chayii’s expression did not change, but her hand reached out and rested on Alwyn’s shoulder. A flicker of black flame met her touch, but she kept her hand still. “We will find a way. You will be free of this one day.”
Alwyn smiled, though Visyna didn’t find comfort in it.
“Speaking of being free of curses,” Alwyn said, moving on, “we’re out of sight of Sergeant Arkhorn now if you want to toss your bowls overboard.”
Visyna looked down at hers and then let it fly. Chayii’s followed.
“Sergeant Arkhorn’s been cooking again,” Konowa said, walking along the railing toward them. He wobbled slightly on his feet and his eyes had a wild look about them only partially explained by the ever-worsening seas.
Visyna fought the urge to reach out and steady him. This was his doing. Perhaps the addition of seasickness would help bring him to his senses.
“I thought we were going to talk on the quarterdeck?” Visyna asked.
The first patter of rain washed over the deck. “Bit crowded up there at the moment,” said Konowa.
Visyna could tell from the expression on his face the Prince was on deck.
“I think it best we talk somewhere less…populated,” Konowa continued.
“I’ll leave you to your conversation then,” Alwyn said, saluting and turning to leave.
“Actually, Private, you’re the reason for our conversation. You saw something on that island, and you quenched the white fire, or whatever it was. We saw what happened at the funeral, and I’ve already talked with Private Vulhber, so now I’m talking to you. What was that magic back on the island?” Konowa motioned them all over to an area somewhat protected from the wind.
“White fire? I know of no such magic,” Visyna said, looking at Chayii, who shook her head in agreement.
“It was white, pure white,” Konowa said, “but it was burning the soldier’s shadow…Private Kester Harkon’s shadow.”
Alwyn tensed slightly, then relaxed, but clearly something had happened between him and Konowa on that island.
“I don’t know what I can add,” Alwyn said. His voice was calm and steady, but Visyna could see in his eyes the subject was an emotionally dangerous one for him.
“Perhaps this could wait for—” was all she managed to get out before Konowa interrupted.
“Tell them, Private, tell them what happened.”
Alwyn looked at Konowa. The hurt on Alwyn’s face was so clear the urge to cradle him in her arms was overwhelming. He stood up straight, almost at attention, and slowly, reluctantly, began to relate what had happened. His voice never betrayed any emotion throughout the retelling, even when he himself, through his shadow, was on fire.
“But this is terrible,” Visyna said when he finished. This time she did reach out and pat his arm. “It kills a person by burning his shadow. And you think this broke the oath?”
“Even if it does, it is no remedy,” Chayii said, her voice grave. “Whatever happened to Private Harkon sounds a terrible fate.”
“We don’t know what ha
ppened,” Konowa said. “And whether it truly broke the oath remains to be seen. What we do know is that it kills what She creates. It had killed many of the sarka har before we even arrived. It is a bane to Her.” Konowa’s eyes brightened. “It might mean we have an ally.”
“I do not think this is a friend you want, my son,” Chayii said. “There is much in this world even now we do not understand. Of what lived before, we know even less.”
Konowa tapped a boot against the decking. “Before? Maybe. I sensed something incredibly ancient, but what of it? It was killing Her forest. No, this is a force that hates Her power as much as we do. If we can find it, we can use it.”
“As you do with darkness pressed against your heart?” Visyna said. “How well has that worked out for you? For them?” she asked, pointing at Alwyn, then quickly lowering her hand.
“I did what had to be done,” Konowa said through clenched teeth. “I saved your precious land and gave up a chance to be free and this is the thanks I get? The point is, Private Renwar proved it can be controlled. He stopped it. Imagine what women of your skills could do.”
Chayii cleared her throat before Visyna could respond. The color in Chayii’s face surely matched Visyna’s.
“We strive to aid the natural order, to restore balance and harmony,” Chayii said. “I would never use such a power even if I could, and I know Visyna wouldn’t either.”
Visyna nodded. “This is madness. You have chosen a dangerous path and made poor choices while on it. You sought our counsel. Will you not heed it?”
Konowa looked to Alwyn for help. “Tell them, explain to them. You felt it. You controlled it.”
“I don’t know what I did,” Alwyn said. This time, his voice couldn’t hide the wounds. “The pain of the fire was unlike anything I’ve ever felt. When I stepped into their shadows I started burning deep inside me in places I didn’t know existed,” Alwyn said. “I…I don’t know if this is something we can use. The price might be too high.”
The words were right, but something in the way Alwyn said them gave Visyna pause. Would Konowa think the price too high, though?
A thunderclap reverberated above them, followed by a quick slash of lightning. The rain began falling harder and the ship rose and fell with greater force, making it difficult for Visyna to keep her balance.
Konowa’s voice rose above the storm. “Thank you, Private, that will be all.”
Alwyn stood to attention and saluted, his face specterlike in the rain. He turned and walked and was soon out of sight. Only when he was gone did Konowa speak again.
“I want to know what it was that can kill sarka har and burn shadow, and I want to know where to find it,” Konowa said. “Either it will help us destroy Her designs, or it will share Her fate. Private Renwar has shown we can defend against it if need be. If you wish me to heed your words, bring me ones that help me fight.” With that he turned and stalked away.
Visyna looked after him for a moment before turning to Chayii for guidance. “How do I reach him? How do I make him understand?”
Chayii stared out to sea then bowed her head. “I had hoped, Visyna, that you could tell me. You hold a place in his heart a mother never could.”
Visyna started to object, but Chayii waved her to silence. “I know, he has a strange way of showing it, but the truth of it remains. You must help him find some peace so that he sees the right path forward. He thinks he merely suffers from seasickness, but it is also more.” She looked at the ship with such sadness in her eyes that Visyna reached out and held her hand.
“This ship is made of Wolf Oaks. My husband’s foolish gift of his ryk faur stands in mockery of everything we hold dear. Even now I feel its spirit here. The pain will never go away.”
Visyna understood. She had felt unsettled the moment she stepped aboard. Despite the horrors of the islands, she had welcomed the opportunities to leave the ship and go ashore, even when it meant facing the Shadow Monarch’s creatures.
“The Empire has much to answer for, but for now, I will do what I can for Konowa, and for the Iron Elves,” Visyna said, hoping her words were true.
“I hope you succeed,” Chayii said, her face awash in rain. “I’ve already lost my husband to Her magic, perhaps forever. I do not want to lose my son as well.”
NINE
The race against the storm was a welcome diversion. The Black Spike rose and fell among the waves as her sailors fought to keep her afloat and the Iron Elves simply fought to keep the contents of their stomachs.
Konowa didn’t breathe easy until the vessel sailed through the gap in the breakwater that arched across Nazalla Bay. He stood against the railing on the forecastle and marveled at the captain’s skills as he eased the ship between the rocks. She handled well even though the storm still raged. Perhaps some of the magic that once coursed through his father’s ryk faur still lived on. Konowa risked a glance over the railing and saw that the waves were indeed calmer inside the breakwater, though the blowing winds were crabbing the big ship sideways as it approached the port.
It was just past midnight according to the ship’s bells, and the combination of rain and cloud cover made it especially dark. Wood groaned and creaked as the sails were taken in and the anchors dropped. Konowa’s stomach still roiled, but just the sight of land was enough to buoy his spirits.
Not fifty miles beyond Nazalla lay the first outpost of the original Iron Elves at a flyspeck called Suhundam’s Hill. There were a series of these outposts stretching out across the desert in a sweeping arc aimed to control the flow of trade and protect the merchant caravans from raiders, but Suhundam was the closest, and the most important. The fort sat astride the meeting of three different trade routes that originated far in the interior of the Hasshugeb Expanse and wound their way to the three ports that dotted the otherwise barren coastline. Suhundam’s Hill would be their first destination. Konowa knew that, unlike the situation at Luuguth Jor, here his elves would still be in full control of their outpost. He’d trained them well.
He scanned the port for a sign that the harbormaster had seen their arrival, but so far no lantern glowed. He was tempted to launch a boat at once and make for the dock, but the waves were still high enough even in here that such a trip would needlessly risk lives. He had waited a long time to get this far; he could wait a little longer.
The smell of cigar smoke made Konowa smile.
“This won’t be our first talk in the rain.”
Rallie walked up beside him and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the railing. Underneath her black hood, her gray hair was even more frizzled, but her gravelly voice belied a calmness that soothed Konowa’s nerves.
“But perhaps our last, at least for a while. The Hasshugeb Expanse is rather on the dry side.” She took a long puff on her cigar and let the smoke roll out of her mouth slowly, watching it get torn apart by the rain. “Rain or snow or something else, there is a problem.”
Konowa nodded. “We cannot be afraid of this power, no matter whose it is or where we find it. A weapon is a weapon—it’s all in how you use it. This ‘white fire’ kills Her creatures. Imagine what we could do with it.”
“Oh, I do,” Rallie said, “I do. But perhaps the better question is: What could such a power do with you?”
Konowa stood up a little straighter. “This isn’t like the oath. We will not be beholden again.”
Rallie tapped the ash from her cigar and clamped it back between her teeth. Despite the rain, the tip continued to glow orange and showed no signs of being doused. “Sage words, to be sure, and I hope they are prophetic ones. Tell me, what do you think you found on that island? What do you think happened to that soldier?”
“I was hoping you could tell me,” Konowa said. His knowledge of ancient and so-called mythical creatures was not vast. Worse, what he did know too often turned out to be wrong. “Did you talk to Private Renwar? He saw it, he felt it, he quenched its fire. He obviously knows something.” The image of the black frost burning in the
soldier’s hands remained a vivid picture in Konowa’s mind.
“Indeed he does, and it’s a knowledge no one should ever possess. He’s gone farther, Major, farther than any of them, farther even than you,” she said.
“Farther where?”
Rallie pointed out to sea. “To the other side. To the place where death reigns and this world becomes a distant memory. He’s become powerful precisely because he’s slipping away.” She turned and looked him in the eyes. “He talks to them, you know.”
Konowa felt a chill, and he knew it wasn’t from the acorn. “He—why?”
Rallie shook her head. “Because they talk to him. He almost died when he lost his leg. The power that was tapped to save his life had a price. It always does. He’s connected to them in a way you aren’t.”
“But that doesn’t make sense…we all took the oath, except the Prince. Surely my power is the strongest. Renwar’s not even an elf.”
“Is that jealousy I hear, Major?”
Konowa waved the idea away even as he wondered if, in fact, it was. “I am just trying to understand. Why would the frost fire burn so much stronger for him?”
Rallie took the cigar out of her mouth and tossed it into the water. “Because he wants to die.”
It was a moment of pure clarity. Konowa had seen it before—soldiers recklessly throwing themselves into the fray. If they survived they got a medal, but few ever lived to receive it, not that they sought a medal in the first place. Konowa knew at some level that he himself risked his life more than was prudent for a commanding officer, but he was seeking to right many wrongs. Private Renwar risked his life for a wholly other reason.
Rallie nodded. “He wants the pain to end, and he’s close to making the final leap. He was prepared before when all that waited for him was eternal service to the Iron Elves and perhaps the Shadow Monarch. Now that you’ve found something that might break that oath, he’ll be even more determined. What’s an agonizing death if it sets you free?”