A Darkness Forged in Fire

THIRTY-SEVEN

H e was drowning. Alwyn struggled to hold his breath, feebly trying to claw his way to the surface. There was a wavering light far above him, while around him cold, black water squeezed in on all sides. It was freezing, and the harder he tried, the deeper he sank. All his energy was being drawn out of his body and he felt progressively lighter and more insubstantial with each stroke. The light started to fade, and he knew he wasn't going to make it. He opened his mouth to let the water in and took a breath. Warm air rushed into his lungs.

"Jilk norГ© grina hee dfir," a woman's voice said.

Alwyn opened his eyes. At first, he thought he was looking at a pair of polished amber jewels set in the hollow of a tree. A moment later, he saw that they were in fact eyes, and that they belonged to the face of an elf. He brought a hand up, his fingers smearing his spectacles. Well, they were in place. He blinked and looked again. A woman-an elf woman-knelt over the top of him, peering down with all the interest that the major's bengar had eyed him with not that long ago. Her skin was tanned, like the major's, and her black hair was drawn tightly into a braid that hung down over one shoulder of a garment of green and brown. The cloth, if that's what it was, appeared to change even as he watched it, so that leaves and branches danced across her body as she shifted closer to him. It hurt his head to try to keep all of her in focus, so he concentrated on her face.

That's when the horror of the black elf rushed back to him and he started to scream. The woman reached out and placed a warm hand on his lips.

"You are safe, for the moment. The others fled our presence, heading eastward."

Alwyn took in a few more breaths and allowed himself to relax, a little. This elf was nothing like the creature that had shot him. Unlike the major and Kritton, though, she had both her ear tips. It was then that he realized who, and what, she was.

"You're an elf of the Long Watch." It was like walking straight into a faery tale.

" I am." The woman said something again in elvish, her voice carrying through the air like a leaf floating on a stream.

"What?" It was dark, but somewhere above him a cool light cast its glow through the canopy of the forest. It was the moon. Strange, he thought, that he could see it this well from the forest floor. No sooner had he thought it than the earth beneath him swayed. His stomach lurched with the realization that he wasn't on the ground at all, but high up in the crook of a large branch of a wahatti tree. He carefully turned his head to the side and looked down. The ground was fifty feet below.

He closed his eyes and wondered if he was dreaming. He opened them again and the elf was still there, still looking at him intently. He noticed a leafy section of the tree was watching him, and then gaped when the leaves moved, revealing another elf. He blinked. This elf, a male, he thought, was festooned with leaves and other foliage. Through the leaves, Alwyn could just make out dark-brown bark, which he assumed served as armor, covering the elf's forearms and chest. What Alwyn had taken for branches turned out to be a scabbarded sword and a long, curving bow held in his hands. Without the moonlight, he never would have seen him, and even then it was only because the elf moved that he knew he was there at all.

"I told the others that the morhar lives."

" Morhar?" Alwyn asked, turning away from the second elf. His head was still foggy. Simple questions seemed best at the moment.

"Tree killer," she said calmly.

"But I-" He was going to say he had never done any such thing when he noticed again the bow carried by the elf. The image of the arrow sticking out of Alik's throat was still vivid in his mind, as was the pain from the one that had pierced his chest. He instinctively reached for the wound. His fingers touched cool, wet leaves wrapping his entire left shoulder and chest. The physical pain was excruciating, the emotional even worse. "What happened to my friends?"

"Some will walk among the trees no more. We buried them in a clearing nearby. The arrows that took their lives were Г¦ri tokma, fire-forged, as was the one that pierced you. You were fortunate that we were able to remove it before it could harm you further." She pointed to a spot beside Alwyn. Ugly black slivers of an arrow shaft lay on a broad leaf. It was fletched with razor-edged leaves the color of steel and a black ichor oozed from the broken pieces, staining the green leaf. Sharp, angular runes covered the pieces of the shaft, and though he couldn't read them, he felt their menace.

"Where is the rest of my patrol?"

The female leaned forward and helped Alwyn into a sitting position. Searing pain raced through his chest. He gasped and would have toppled off the branch if the elf hadn't held on. When the pain subsided, she offered him some water from a hollowed-out gourd. She kept a hand resting on his shoulder.

"The others are injured, and are being cared for."

Alwyn pushed thoughts of Yimt and the others out of his mind before they consumed him. His skin tingled. Insects chittered all around him, and he was surprised at how loud and clear they sounded.

The male elf suddenly moved, walking across the branch as if strolling down a boulevard. His gait reminded Alwyn of Jir-slow, graceful, and deadly. Alwyn put his hands down at his sides to grab hold of the branch and felt a nest of leaves and soft moss beneath him. He gently rocked from side to side and felt a bit more secure at the sturdiness of his perch. The elf halted beside him and bent to look at him.

Alwyn was drawn to his face, aware he was staring and unable to look away. Unlike the naturally tanned skin of the woman, this one's skin was completely tattooed with a leaf pattern. He turned his head from side to side, studying Alwyn with immense curiosity. Two more eyes suddenly appeared on the elf's shoulder, dark and glimmering, and Alwyn found himself being examined by a small, dark brown, furry creature.

"Is that a squirrel?" he asked, pointing at the animal that perched on its haunches by the elf's left ear, its tiny black nose twitching long, golden whiskers. Two tiny ears swiveled on top of its head as it made a soft, purring sound. Suddenly, the twitching stopped and the animal launched itself from its perch into the air, missing Alwyn's head by inches. It spread its legs wide and previously hidden folds of fur opened up and it glided to the next tree, twenty yards away. A moment later, it was back, landing gracefully on the elf's shoulder. Between its teeth was a still-wriggling snake a foot long. It devoured the snake quickly, never taking its eyes off Alwyn. When it was done, it started purring again.

"Of a kind," the woman replied. She switched to elvish and spoke to the male. He said something back in a language that was not elvish-it sounded like wind rustling through the trees, but the woman nodded as if she understood. The male then turned and simply vanished into the branches around them. The last Alwyn saw of him was a small pair of dark eyes twinkling at him from between the leaves with far more intelligence than any pair of squirrel eyes should have.

"Who was the elf?" he asked.

She paused before speaking, a pained look crossing her face. "He was Tyul Mountain Spring. He is now dГЇova gruss, one of the lost ones."

Alwyn wanted to ask what that meant, but sensed now was not the time. "You saved our lives," he said. He'd once overheard the major talking, well, yelling really, with the witch. The elves of the Long Watch cared little for humans. He could imagine what they thought about soldiers of the Empire.

"It was not our intent," the elf replied. "We hunted other prey, leaving our homeland of the Great Forest to cross the vast waters to track them here. We did not expect to find you when we found them. Even then you would have been left to the natural order, but most curiously, Her creatures attacked you though you wear the cloth of the Г¦ri tokma, and we would know more."

It was not a reassuring answer, and it was rude to look a gift dragon in the mouth, especially when it might breathe fire on you if you did. Curiosity got the better of him.

"What was that thing that shot me?"

The elf's amber eyes flashed, and Alwyn feared he had crossed a line. After a moment, she responded. "It, and the others you did not see, are Her servants. They are no more elves than you."

"Actually," Alwyn said, "our regiment is called the Iron Elves, but I'm not an elf," he hastened to add.

The elf hissed. She drew forth a gleaming, wooden dagger and made a sign of warding. "Then you serve the Shadow Monarch. We were wrong to succor you."

Alwyn felt the life force in the blade, and for a moment thought he heard another voice. "What? No. We've got nothing to do with the Shadow Monarch! We're trying to stop Her from getting the Star. We're not evil, honest," he said, holding up his hands.

"You know of the Star?" she asked, the dagger still held in her hand.

"I haven't seen it, if that's what you're asking, but we've all heard about it. I think that's the real reason we're going to Luuguth Jor."

The dagger vanished, and with it the strange feeling that there had been more than just the two of them there. The elf sat down beside him, one hand still on his shoulder. Alwyn lowered his hands and let out his breath.

"What is your name?"

"Private Alwyn Renwar."

The elf shook her head. "What does your name mean?"

"Mean? It's just my name, it doesn't mean anything," he said, his voice rising a little. "What's yours?"

"Irkila Moon Singer," she said, still staring at him with those deep, brown eyes, " ryk faurrГ© of Tall Wind. Why do you live as you do, Private Alwyn Renwar? Why do you destroy that which lives so that you instead may live a life with no meaning?"

That wasn't fair. "Hey, I said my name has no meaning, not my life. And besides, my name does have a meaning, it was my grandfather's."

Irkila sat up straight. "You rob your ancestor of his name? How will he be known in the spirit world?"

"I asked you to watch over him, Irkila, not argue with him," a voice said from above. An elf landed lightly beside Irkila without a sound. She was older, her black hair streaked with gray, her skin lined with fine wrinkles that only added to her look of wisdom and beauty. Like Irkila, she was dressed in a fashion that caused her to blend with the tree so that it was difficult to tell where the tree ended and she began.

"I want to understand, Chayii Red Owl, but he makes no sense. He and his companions wear the cloth of the tainted ones, yet are hunted by creatures of Her making. They search for the Eastern Star, yet do not appear to believe in it. They follow orders they do not understand."

Chayii smiled. "Their ways are not ours. Go aid the children of this home. Many were wounded during the battle, their trunks scarred by metal, their leaves burned by the black frost. I would talk with Alwyn of the Empire."

Irkila nodded and took her hand from his shoulder. The sounds of the forest quieted again, and he shook his head. He watched her walk back toward the trunk of the tree and then simply vanish. It was impressive magic.

"Not magic," Chayii said, "but understanding. Many things are yet shrouded in this, and I seek your light. Will you guide me?"

He started, then nodded, wishing he could go back to a time when the only elf he'd known had cobbled shoes for a living and had shown no interest in reading his mind.

"Then tell me, Iron Elf, who is the one you call Meri?"