A Darkness Forged in Fire

FOURTEEN

K onowa walked in a straight line, prepared to bludgeon the first person who crossed his path. Unfortunately, the first person was a horse, and Konowa's anger subsided into a crushing weight. This fool of a Prince was going to get them all killed.

"You appear to gravitate toward the more pungent these days," Jurwan Leaf Talker said, smiling broadly and startling Konowa as the wizard came around the other side of the horse.

Konowa shook his head. Too many musket salvos had permanently damaged his hearing.

"And you don't know when to leave well enough alone," Konowa said, walking past his father.

Jurwan reached out a hand, his fingertips brushing Konowa's arm. The touch was as light as a leaf floating on a stream, but it stopped him like a cannon firing canister shot at twenty yards. Bloody wizards.

"Judging by the color of your face and the tone of your voice, I'd say you've met the Prince," Jurwan said, chuckling softly, removing his hand to pat the horse's neck. His other hand reached into his hides and pulled out bits of keela fruit, which he offered to the animal. The red pulp dribbled down Jurwan's fingers as the horse nibbled at it, and Konowa felt a queasiness in his stomach.

"He is an arrogant little poppet who cares more about finding purple-winged moths and pleasing his mother than leading a regiment." Konowa kicked at a weed near his boot. " Regiment. It won't be anything close to what it was before. And when were you going to tell me the Iron Elves wouldn't actually have any elves in it?"

Jurwan slowly shook his head and clucked his tongue. He walked over to Konowa and bent down by his feet, gently straightening the weed. For an old elf, he still moved with fluid ease, a skill Konowa had long ago given up trying to master.

"The past is gone, my son, or at least, it used to be. For now, you must embrace the present, so that you may walk with a clear mind and free heart into the future, while being ever vigilant for that which went before you, for it may yet come again."

Konowa looked down at his father with wide eyes. "Is this mystical pap the counsel you give Ruwl? I mean, in between tending to blades of grass and injured mice?"

Jurwan stood up and smiled. "No, I only say it to annoy you, and because it's true. As for Ruwl, I tell him he needs to adapt to his surroundings, be open and malleable, not hard and stubborn, as some are wont to be. Oh, and that he should have more Tremkaberry tea shipped over from home. I find the local tea here rather bitter. Which reminds me," he continued, grabbing Konowa by the arm and steering him around the horse. "I am making dinner and am in need of a pair of strong hands to help me."

"I'm really not in the mood for roasted worms and grass soup, Father," Konowa said, allowing himself to be propelled along nonetheless.

"Wrong season for worms," Jurwan said absently, casting a quick glance down at the ground. "The earth is too dry at the moment; she waits for Sky Sister to cry."

Konowa looked up to the sky and sighed. "Rain, it's called rain. Look, is your tent much farther? I have many things to do before the regiment sets out on this mad adventure."

"And one of them is to eat a meal with your father, if that isn't too much to ask," Jurwan said, squeezing Konowa's arm as they walked. "Ah, here we are!"

"Where?" Konowa asked. Jurwan had taken him to the edge of the camp where an old willow tree bent over a stream. Its branches were thick with leaves and draped on the ground.

" Muh ko ji," Jurwan said, and the branches parted. For a moment, Konowa's body tingled and he heard, or thought he heard, a very old, very wise voice answer his father. He pushed his senses outward and listened, but there was nothing more to hear.

"Come, we have arrived just in time," Jurwan called from inside.

Konowa shrugged and stepped through the hanging branches. They closed behind him with a soft swish, and he was inside a cozy and surprisingly cool dwelling that was not at all obvious from the outside.

A large bowl, sanded and carved to a fluid smoothness, floated above a small fire in the center of the floor. Konowa couldn't help but smile. His father had mastery, not that the old elf would call it that, over the elements of life, yet used his great skills to cook with a wooden pot. The flames curled around it, trying to feed on the wood, yet the bowl remained a beautiful satin brown, its surface completely unblemished. Inside it, water was just starting to boil, thin beads of air bubbles winding their way to the surface to release tiny wisps of steam.

"A fire within the confines of a tree, Father?" Konowa asked, walking around the small area and marveling at the coolness of the air. He undid the chinstrap of his shako and took it off, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

"Balance in all things, my son," Jurwan said, sitting cross-legged on the grass floor in front of the fire and motioning for Konowa to do the same. "The fuel is dead wood, and I have ensured the flames do not feed on more than that."

"Black Spike would not have been impressed," Konowa said, regretting it immediately. Jurwan's bond brother, one of the mightiest Wolf Oaks to have grown in the deep forest, had been killed many years ago, and it was a loss Konowa knew the old elf felt deeply.

Jurwan shook his head. "Not at all. My ryk faur, like most of the Wolf Oaks, was far more pragmatic than the Long Watch make them out to be. Fire, like all elementals, is necessary, even desired at times. Should an elf shun water because he might drown, and so die of thirst? My bond brother would not begrudge me a warm meal, may his ashes bring life to those that follow."

"Sounds more reasonable than the woman I just met," Konowa said. His heartbeat quickened at the thought of her, but he wasn't sure if it was passion or frustration.

Jurwan's eyebrows rose in exaggerated surprise. "You're courting then? Well. Perhaps she can knock some sense into that thick head of yours."

Konowa waved the thought away. "She's elfkynan, some kind of witch, too, for that matter. Our views on the world aren't exactly in harmony."

"A witch," Jurwan said, his voice taking on a dreamy quality. "I do hope the grandchildren take after her."

"Easy, Father, she hasn't even bothered to see me since we arrived in camp," Konowa said, pacing around the fire. "Not that it matters."

Jurwan shook his head slowly, letting a small sigh escape his lips. "Be not so sure of what matters and what does not. Drops of rain become an ocean. And if courting hasn't changed completely since I was your age, I think she might be waiting for you to visit her."

"I've been rather busy, what with this lunacy I've been dragged into," he said, putting a halt to his pacing and choosing a fallen log as a seat.

"The grass would be better, my son," Jurwan said.

And the lessons in life begin. "You can burn wood but I can't sit on it?" Konowa asked, throwing his shako to the ground beside him. "Or is it only that I am in touch with nature if my backside is flat on the earth?"

Jurwan began unfolding a cloth-wrapped bundle. "Don't be silly. But you may wish to reconsider your seat, as it is full of ants-a type of biting ant, actually."

The log soared through the branches as Konowa jumped to his feet and began to beat at his trousers.

Jurwan made a tut-tut sound and shook his head. "A whole year alone in the forest. It's a wonder you didn't burn it down."

Konowa glared at his father, but the old elf was busy arranging a group of vegetables for the cooking pot. He sighed and walked around to the other side of the fire to sit down, checking the ground carefully before he did so.

Jurwan handed him a thin wooden blade and a potato. Konowa hefted the knife and was pleased with its balance and weight. He twirled it between his fingers, faster and faster. It felt warm and comfortable in his hand and the edge gleamed with a sharpness to match any fire-forged blade.

"The potato will not hurt you," Jurwan said, peering down his nose at Konowa.

Konowa stopped twirling the knife and began cutting slices of the potato into the pot, gently sliding each chunk into the water.

"You haven't told me what you think about all of this," Konowa said.

"There is only one world," Jurwan replied, passing Konowa two carrots and a small pouch filled with a tangy-smelling spice. "All of us, from the smallest insect to the largest mountain, must live within it, and in harmony with one another."

"You missed your calling, Father-you should have been a courtier. You manage to say something and nothing at the same time." Konowa sighed dramatically as he diced the carrots with quick, smooth flicks of the knife. When he was done, he upended the pouch with the spice into the bowl, turning the water a rich brown color and filling the air with a tantalizing aroma.

Jurwan wasn't paying attention, handing Konowa a red kelsa root and some bright-green sprigs of reimoni. "Stir the water, keep everything moving," Jurwan said. He rocked back on his heels, looking up at the hanging branches, which suddenly parted to allow a thin shaft of sunlight to shine down in front of him. "The Empire thinks like the bull dragon. Exert enough force and it can impose its will. Bite, and bite hard, and it can kill anything. In this the Empire believes, so it seeks out that which it does not understand but nonetheless fears, and in finding it, would control it, or kill it."

"Yes, but the bull dragon, when using its wings, can walk across a frozen lake, fishing between the cracks without falling in." Konowa sat up a little straighter, pleased to be able to use one of the old elf's homilies against him for a change.

"More than fish swim beneath the ice, my son, but the dragon only sees its own reflection."

"Is there a moral to this story anywhere in the near future?"

Jurwan looked at his son with raised eyebrows and motioned for him to get back to the pot. "Only young bulls seek out opponents. The older, wiser ones lie in wait."

Konowa thought about that as he used the knife to stir the pot, adding more carrots and herbs between swirls. A chunk of potato bobbed to the surface, its already golden-brown hue a clear sign the soup was nearly done.

"If I didn't know better, Father, I'd say you were trying to warn me." Konowa watched the potato bob on the surface. He stabbed it with the tip of the knife and brought it to his mouth.

"Patience!" Jurwan scolded, slapping Konowa's hand down and sending the potato flying back into the pot. "And if you would open your mind as wide as you do your mouth, you might benefit from it."

Konowa rubbed his hand and looked at his father. "I've been heeding warnings all my life," he said, pointing to his ruined ear.

Jurwan looked at him and for a moment Konowa saw not the always-sage wizard, but a very worried parent.

"Your destiny is your own," Jurwan said at last.

When had that ever been true? Konowa wondered. "I know our history, Father. Somehow, in the world before this one, Her hand touched me as it did so many others, and I was marked, an elf destined for the Shadow Monarch's realm. Tokma ka Г¦ri."

Jurwan's voice grew louder and the wizard was back. " Nothing forged in fire is the mantra of the Long Watch, but it is not the only way. Do not think you know everything you think you know."

Konowa's head was already in too much pain to work that all the way through. "The Iron Elves were the tainted ones, Father, and we did our best to prove everyone wrong. We joined the Empire to fight against our destiny, and for a better future, and what did we get for it?"

"So this is your excuse for all you've done to yourself these last few years? Self-pity?"

Konowa pounded the ground beside him with his fist. "I didn't choose to be born with a black ear tip! I didn't court-martial myself! I didn't banish myself to the forest, and I certainly didn't volunteer to be an outcast!" he shouted.

"And yet you live as if you did," Jurwan said, motioning for Konowa to keep stirring.

Riddles and tests, always a new challenge. Growing up, Father had been like a shadow at dusk, teaching with questions, guiding with silence, never scolding, and never praising. His mother, on the other hand…

"Would not approve of either of us at the moment," Jurwan remarked.

"Damn it, Father!" Konowa said, the hairs on the back of his neck shivering. "I hate it when you do that."

Jurwan stared at his son in mock surprise. "My dear boy, you are as obvious as the night after the setting sun. It is no great feat to listen to the flow of life around you and follow its natural course." He held up his hands and waggled his fingers at Konowa, gently mocking him. "I can see you took the stories of the Long Watch a little closer to your heart than I imagined. I blame myself for letting your mother teach you that, but she was determined you would join us as ryk fauri and prove the birth omen wrong."

"And you?" Konowa asked, wondering where this was all leading. "You adhere to the old ways. This shelter, the cooking pot, the hides you wear, even the way you talk. If I didn't know better, I'd say you had a change of heart about steering me toward the Empire."

Konowa said it in jest, and was completely unprepared for Jurwan's response.

"Perhaps. If you had stayed with the tribe, we would not be in this land, and you would not be embarking on this quest for the Eastern Star."

The two sat in sudden silence, both staring at the fire.

"Father," Konowa finally said, "do you really believe it is true? A red shooting star falling in the east here? And now buried under some dung heap in Luuguth Jor, and the Viceroy come back to life?"

Jurwan's answer shook Konowa to his bones. "The rakkes are real enough, and I have seen things that make me believe the rest is true as well. And though you have chosen not to tell me, you have dreamed of Her recently."

"How did you know that?"

For an answer, Jurwan looked up to the branches overhead and whispered something. A moment later a single willow leaf came fluttering down to land in his outstretched hand. As Konowa stared, the leaf stood perfectly upright in his father's palm, slowly turning. Jurwan studied the leaf for several seconds, then closed his eyes. There was a rustle of wind in the branches above their heads and suddenly dozens of leaves were falling, but many were from different trees. Konowa pushed apart the wall of willow branches to look outside. A strong wind was snapping banners and chasing dust clouds high into the air.

"The rakke knew your name," Jurwan said.

Konowa turned back to his father, now surrounded by a pile of leaves on the ground.

"It doesn't anymore."

Jurwan nodded. "She's reaching out far and wide, beckoning to those who would serve Her. A black, cold flame in the night, invisible to most, but not all."

Konowa stirred the pot so hard he splashed some of the soup into the fire. "Serve the Shadow Monarch? I'd kill Her just like I killed Her servant."

"Not quite the threat it was a year ago," Jurwan said, winking at his son, "but I have no doubt you would oppose the Shadow Monarch with every fiber of your being."

Konowa was in no mood to be placated. How could his father not see the only course of action open to them? "The Iron Elves should be called back and then the entire Imperial Army should be sent against Her mountain. What will killing the Viceroy all over again achieve? We should go after Her."

Jurwan shook his head. "She is strong now, much stronger than She has ever been. Her trees have dug deep into the mountain, feeding on a power they were never meant to taste. A direct assault would end in disaster. No, Luuguth Jor is where you must go, and quickly."

"With the Prince in command?" Konowa asked. Thoughts of the man made him grip the knife harder, his knuckles whitening. "What does His Highness know about fighting?"

"Consider that this is the Queen's son, the future King and ruler of the Empire," Jurwan said, reaching over and tapping Konowa on the hand so that his grip relaxed. "You have an opportunity to shape the monarch-in-waiting. Think what it would mean if you could convince him that the lands of the Hynta elves were best left to us."

Konowa looked at his father with genuine surprise. "The past is gone, Father. The Hynta's only hope is in embracing the future. You know I think this idea of the Queen's, if it really is Her idea, to be a complete farce, but this Empire isn't going away, and with each passing year it grows stronger. The Long Watch will have precious little to watch over if they don't accept that."

"The Long Watch have seen the rise and fall of more than one empire. Do not be so sure it won't bear witness to the demise of this one, too."

"Then help me, Father, help me to destroy Her. Convince Ruwl to call back the Iron Elves before it's too late."

Jurwan shook his head. "The more I think on this, the more I am happy that they are far away. She would try to turn them, too. No, better they stay where they are for now."

"Then what should I do?" Konowa asked.

Jurwan acted as if he had not heard him. "I received a message from your mother. The Long Watch are very worried."

Konowa sighed. "The Long Watch are always worried; it's their nature. They fight for a past that is gone. I'm worried about the here and now."

"It is the here and now that is becoming the past that has them worried," Jurwan said. "Many said we should burn everything and put an end to Her."

Konowa leaned forward. "Burn it? I can't imagine the Elves of the Long Watch burning a forest, not even Her forest."

"Probably not. Their compassion for all living things is a heavy burden. I fear before long we will reap a bitter harvest from this." He hesitated for a moment, then reached out his hand and gave Konowa a small pouch.

"More spice? Unless you want me to kill rakkes with my cooking, I'll need more than this."

The pouch felt heavy and cold. Konowa undid the leather thong and looked inside.

There was only blackness. Without pausing, he reached down with a finger to see what trickery was going on. His finger touched something freezing and hard.

"Wh-" was all he had time to say before a stabbing pain entered his finger like a thin stiletto of ice. He pulled it away and brought his finger to his lips. Immediately a bolt of lightning surged through his body, leaving him trembling and panting. He watched with open-mouthed amazement as Jurwan reached over and took the pouch from his other hand, tied up the thong, and set it down on the ground.

"It's an acorn from Her ryk faur, the silver Wolf Oak She would not let die," Jurwan said, his face giving nothing away. "You have carried a great burden all these years, my son, bearing the mark of otherness with a strength and pride that has served our people well, though they choose not to see it. You did not bond with a Wolf Oak and join the ranks of the Long Watch, yet you, and those elves like you, have protected the Hynta and its forests at a great cost. The Iron Elves live again, and I think this time, they deserve more than the scorn of their people."

"But this is-"

Jurwan held up his hand. "Help, I believe, when you need it most. Until then, leave it be. Now," Jurwan said, smiling again, "stir the soup, my son. Adventures, however ill-advised, are better met on a full stomach…and you'll need your strength if I'm to have grandchildren any time soon."

Konowa did as he was asked, but he was no longer hungry. He stared down at the leather pouch on the ground. The full import of what he was embarking on was only just starting to seep into his understanding, the chances of success slim to remote.

"But real all the same," Jurwan said, taking the knife from his son's hand and stirring the soup himself. "Let us hope it is enough."