A Darkness Forged in Fire

NINETEEN

T he regiment resumed its march, tramping ever eastward in a choking white haze. After the steamy wet confines of the forest, Konowa felt completely exposed and constantly scanned the surrounding plain for signs of danger. The view was better from atop Zwindarra, but his legs were aching from standing up in the saddle to save the muscles of his backside from further insult. He had finally decided to try sitting again when he spotted a dust plume rapidly gaining on the column from the west.

"Prince Tykkin," Konowa said, pointing back down the trail.

"Likely more supplies," the Prince remarked, and rode on, his eyes scanning the ground in front of them. Probably looking for some damn insect, Konowa thought.

"I'll just check it out then, sir," Konowa said, saluting and cantering Zwindarra back toward the oncoming visitor. "You four," he said, pointing to a group of soldiers as they marched past, "fall out and follow me." He was pleased to see they began loading their muskets without being told to do so.

Konowa tried to find Kritton as the rest of the column marched past, but the dust and the bobbing horse made it difficult and he soon gave it up. He did see Visyna's muraphant and nodded, but he was past before he could see if she responded.

By the time he came to the end of the column, the dust cloud was upon him. From out of the swirling dirt came a covered wagon driven by a figure in a gray cloak and drawn by four of the ugliest horses Konowa had ever seen.

"Glad I finally caught up with you," the stranger said, hauling in the steeds.

Two wizened hands pushed back the hood of the cloak to reveal an old human woman.

Konowa motioned for the soldiers who had accompanied him to catch up with the column. He turned back to the woman and doffed his shako and bowed-temporarily losing his balance before righting himself.

"Major Konowa Ul-Osveen, sub knight commander, the Hynta Light Infantry," he said, trying and failing to nudge Zwindarra closer to the wagon.

"The Iron Elves," she replied, taking a large cigar and clamping it between exceptionally yellow teeth. "Commanded by His Royal Arseness the Prince." Her face crinkled like a sun-dried prune, and she smiled at him through a wreath of dark blue smoke. "But I'm guessing from the politely stunned look on your face that you haven't the foggiest crystal ball who I am."

Konowa was hot, his backside felt alternately numb and on fire, and the cursed high collar on his jacket was rubbing his neck raw. He really didn't feel up to a guessing game, but something held the insult between his teeth. After all, she was the first new person he'd met in some time who hadn't tried to kill him on sight.

"I must confess, dear lady, that you have the advantage."

Her laugh sounded like a flock of startled crows, and Zwindarra's head reared up in surprise.

"You are a charmer. Name's Rallie Synjyn."

Konowa leaned forward in his saddle for a closer look. "I'm sorry, you're the Rallie Synjyn?" Her Majesty's Scribe of the Imperial Weekly Herald was famous the Empire over, and only partly because of her incredible knack for being at the right place at the right time. Almost as many stories had been written about Rallie as she had written herself, and most were so outlandish, involving strange sightings and bizarre happenings, that no one, least of all Konowa, knew what to believe. Naturally, it sold a lot of parchment.

"One and the same," she said. "Of course, I used to be Rallina, but folks don't want to read about battles and adventure from someone quite so girly sounding, and you know, it's all about getting paid. Fortunately, the Queen understands that better than most, plus," she said, giving him a wink, "the old gal recognizes a good quill when she sees one."

Konowa decided he liked Rallie Synjyn, a lot. "What brings you out here?" he asked, opting to reveal nothing he didn't want to hear a news crier yelling a week later.

Rallie started laughing and slapped her knee with her hand, sending up a cloud of dust that combined with the cigar smoke to hide her from sight. It took a moment before she reappeared. "Certainly not to document the meanderings of Prince Precious up there. The reformation of the Iron Elves is news, Major, big news. It was a pity what happened to you and your boys, a right shame. Putting cold steel in that bastard was a favor for the world over. Up to no good, that one. I am glad to see you back in the saddle again, although I can only imagine what it's like to not have your elves with you."

Konowa suddenly found it hard to see. Rallie chose to fiddle with something behind her for a few moments, giving him time to compose himself.

"I can't imagine the Imperial Army will be thrilled that you're here," he finally said, "whatever the Queen thinks."

Rallie turned back to him, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "The General Staff think I'm more of a threat than a herd of dragons, but the Queen likes the idea of keeping her generals honest by having at least one newt in the potion." She took another puff of her cigar and let out a slow, long breath, eyeing Konowa up and down. "Actually, I'd make that two newts."

Konowa tried to look innocent. "Me? I'm a paragon of virtue. I follow orders."

Rallie laughed so hard tiny smoke rings popped out of her nose. Shaking her head as she regained her composure, she fixed him with a hard stare. "Not too strenuously, I hope. I think a time is soon coming when you'll need to take matters into your own hands."

He imagined his hands wrapped around the Prince's neck-a tempting proposition. "My job is to bring this regiment back, and in one piece. I'll see it done, no matter what."

"Best to let the Prince think he had something to do with it," she said, motioning toward the head of the column. She clucked at her steeds, who were straying toward the vines. "He thinks I'm here to write glowing stories about him for the court. You know the stuff; he leads a regiment into a deep, dark corner of the Empire, slaughters a few natives, grabs some baubles and magic totems, stubs a toe getting off his horse, and goes back home a hero, replete with wound stripe on his sleeve and war stories to woo the courtesans out of their hoop skirts."

"Surely the Queen wouldn't let you write that?" Konowa asked, spurring Zwindarra to keep up.

Rallie placed a finger against the side of her nose and winked, her eye disappearing in flaps of tanned, leathery skin. "The day you assume you know the mind of a monarch, any monarch, is the day you likely lose your own, along with the skull that holds it. There's more to this than meets the eye, Major, you can count on that."

"You're not the first person to say so."

"Your father is an astute old bugger," Rallie replied. "You should listen to him. Strange things are afoot. That's why I'm here. There's a story coming like a Star from the heavens. The key is to not stand directly underneath it when it falls."

Konowa couldn't hide the surprise on his face.

"The ears may not be elven, but they suffice," she responded. Shaking her head with glee, she drew another great puff on the cigar so that its tip glowed bright orange.

"Then it's true? There really is a Star there? What about the Viceroy?"

Rallie shook her head. "I suspect much, but at the moment can prove little. I hate to sound like a daft old bat, but I feel something deep in my bones, something terribly wrong in the world. It's as if everything is slowly being twisted out of focus." She suddenly looked embarrassed. "The questions are many. The answers, I think, will be found in Luuguth Jor."

Konowa tipped his shako to her and rode in silence for a while, thinking.

The first elven Viceroy of the Calahrian Empire turned out to be a traitor in the service of the Shadow Monarch, and Konowa, as commanding officer of the only elven regiment in the Imperial Army, killed him. Simple enough. Only the Viceroy didn't die, or did die and has now come back as Her Emissary, looking for what should have been just a children's tale-a red shooting star. Not so simple. Myths becoming reality and the dead becoming, well, less so. Like the rakkes, extinct for hundreds of years, suddenly reappearing and knowing his name. That was no coincidence, of that much he was sure. The Shadow Monarch was looking for him. He gripped the reins tighter. She wouldn't have to look much longer. If Her Emissary was prowling around that miserable little fort at Luuguth Jor, She'd soon find out exactly where Konowa Swift Dragon was, and what he was capable of.

Far up ahead, a muraphant trumpeted, setting off the rest of them in a chorus of deep, rumbling blasts. Not to be outdone, the animals pulling Rallie's wagon lifted their heads in the air and honked, making a long sonorous sound that reminded Konowa of the after-echo of cannon fire. A voice from within the column that sounded suspiciously like the dwarf's suggested in no uncertain terms that they should all stuff it or wind up as steaks.

Konowa chuckled and coaxed Zwindarra closer to the wagon so he could get a good look at the beasts pulling it. What he had taken for especially monstrous horses were in fact brindos, a native species of deer that looked more like the ill-advised union of rhinoceros and horse.

"I call the big one there Baby, but they're all my babies really," Rallie said, smiling benevolently at her animals.

Baby was neither small nor cute, standing as tall as Zwindarra, but sporting a dull black hide of interlocking plates. It looked like a jigsaw puzzle in motion. Its hooves were cloven, its tail a stubby whip that thrashed vigorously to no effect that Konowa could discern, and its head was a wedge-shaped block featuring a pair of enormous floppy ears and two small, evil-looking green eyes. As it called out to the muraphants farther ahead, Konowa got a good look at its teeth and was surprised to see large flat molars. He wasn't sure why, but somehow he had expected brindos to be fanged like Jir.

Konowa realized he hadn't seen the bengar in some time. He'd never admit it, not to anyone, but Jir had saved his life out there, and not just from rakkes. Without the company of that furry, territory-marking carnivore, Konowa would have gone mad. Undercurrents of life in the forest had ebbed and flowed through his dreams, leaving susurrous after-echoes of something he didn't understand. What must the elves of the Long Watch endure? he wondered, feeling thankful that he had been rejected that day in the birthing meadow.

"A piece of gold for your thoughts," Rallie said, bringing Konowa back to the present with a jolt.

"You'll get a lot of change then," Konowa said, smiling to cover his sudden unease. Might Rallie possess his father's uncanny ability to know another's thoughts?

"I very much doubt that, Konowa Swift Dragon," Rallie said with a huge grin, "not if you told me your true thoughts."

Konowa forced a smile and rode on in silence, musing there was little chance of that.