A Darkness Forged in Fire

FORTY-SEVEN

I n the future, Major, I will be the one to give the speeches to the men," Prince Tykkin said, pacing up and down a small patch of grass twenty yards behind the firing line. He'd ridden the short distance down from the fortress on Rolling Thunder despite the horse's continued skittishness within the ring of trees. No sooner had he dismounted than the horse bolted, galloping back up to the fortress to huddle among the brindos and muraphants. Konowa felt a certain amount of pride that Zwindarra seemed unconcerned by their present environment.

"This is my regiment, not yours," the Prince went on. His face was red, but it was more from being out in the sun than from anger. In fact, despite Konowa's breach of etiquette, the Prince was clearly preoccupied with something else. Chants of "Sillra! Sillra!" washed over the regiment from the far bank as the elfkynan worked themselves into a frenzy in preparation for attack.

"Of course, sir," Konowa said, caring little what the Prince thought. The battle would be over soon and this whole nightmare would be at an end.

The Prince paused in his pacing, shivering and wrapping his arms around his body. He looked across the river and shook his head. "I caught the tail end of it, Major, and I noticed you didn't mention me. Still, it was rather rousing; I'll have to ask Rallie to write me up something like it." He stamped his boots and started pacing again. "This weather is absolutely atrocious. First it's hot enough to boil eggs and now I'm thoroughly chilled."

Konowa felt the cold, too, and found he was getting quite used to it. A thought occurred to him.

"Sir, when I administered the oath to the regiment, you were having one of your discussions with Rallie, correct?"

The Prince stopped again and looked skyward for a moment, pushing the brim of his shako back out of his eyes. He had lost a good ten pounds since they set out, the puffiness of his face having disappeared, the collar around his neck looser. Konowa hated to admit it, but he was starting to look like what a Prince and a leader should look like, toughened by the outdoors and bloodied, if slightly so far, by battle. Whether he had any more sense was another matter.

"Yes," he finally said, lowering his eyes to look at Konowa suspiciously. "She was fascinated by my plans to build the Great Library in Celwyn. Said placing the Star there would put it out of reach of almost every miscreant and fool that would try to use it, which was, of course, exactly my plan."

"No doubt," Konowa said, wondering if the Prince had ever taken a moment to consider the phrase "almost every." "Do you recall feeling cold at all that night? A cool breeze…frost, even a little?"

Prince Tykkin raised an eyebrow. "What are you getting at, Major?"

Now that Konowa had brought it up, he wasn't sure how to proceed. "Some of the men have reported feeling a bit off, sir. I was just curious if you had felt different of late."

The Prince relaxed and actually smiled. "I never would have taken you for a mother hen, Major, but no, put your mind at ease. I have never felt better in my life. If it wasn't for this blasted cold, I'd say I was near perfect."

So then. The oath hadn't affected the Prince. "Very good, sir. The men will be pleased to hear it."

"Of course they will," the Prince said, tapping his chest proudly. "They serve in the finest regiment in the Imperial Army, commanded by the heir to the throne. Now, enough about my health. Is everything ready?"

Konowa made a point of looking up and down the line as if studying the placement of the troops, something he had already done a dozen times before. "The regiment is ready, sir."

"Good, splendid. Well, very good. Yes, very, very good. We'll stand here then, shall we?"

Once again, Konowa came face to face with the reality of his situation: Prince Tykkin had no earthly idea what to do with a regiment going into battle.

"As the commanding officer it would be wise if you oversaw the battle from the fortress. It provides a commanding view and will allow you to take in the whole field, sir," Konowa lied. A commander's place was with his men, right in the thick of it-not that this fool would ever realize it.

The Prince looked back up to the fortress. "Seems rather far away to direct the regiment," he said. No sooner had he said it than a single arrow fluttered over from across the river, an impossibly long shot by an elfkynan archer hoping to take out an officer. The arrow barely penetrated the dirt two feet in front of them before slowly toppling over. The shouts of "Sillra!" grew even louder.

"The men know you would gladly risk your life to be right up here with them, sir," Konowa said, turning slightly so he could keep a better eye out for more arrows. He noticed that the Prince made sure to keep Konowa between himself and the river. "But yours is a strategic role, sir, watching for that critical moment when things hang in the balance. And of course the Star…you'll be looking for the Star."

Mention of the Star reanimated Prince Tykkin and his pacing resumed, faster than before, heedless of exposing himself to further shots. "It's close, Major, right at our very fingertips. It's here somewhere, I can feel it!"

"Yes, sir, I'm sure it is. All the more reason for you to continue searching for it. I'm sure you'll find it soon." The air vibrated with elfkynan chants.

"You're right," the Prince said. Another arrow sailed in a high curving arc across the river and struck the Prince's shako square on, bouncing off the hat just above his forehead to lie at their feet.

"He's got the right idea," Konowa muttered, looking across the river for the elfkynan archer.

"How's that?" the Prince asked, his voice rising in preparation for another tantrum.

"Always aim at their leaders, sir. You cut off the head and the body falls. They obviously recognize the threat you pose," Konowa said. "Perhaps Rallie will help you with a victory speech for after the battle. I know the men will be looking forward to hearing a few words from you."

"It would be appropriate," the Prince said, and then paused, a new thought clearly dawning on him. "And speaking of appropriate, an officer should be mounted at all times practical, Major. The men need constant inspiration. They need to look up to those that command them. That's why we have horses."

"Not all the horses seem comfortable with the trees," Konowa said, succeeding for the most part in keeping the exasperation out of his voice.

"They'll learn, or they'll wind up in a cooking pot," the Prince said, bending to pick up the arrow. "I expect to see you mounted, Major; no excuses. This battle will be fought properly."

"Very good, sir," Konowa said, knowing it was futile to argue.

"Now," Prince Tykkin continued, turning to head back up to the fortress, "I think I'll go have a chat with Rallie and get her working on my speech. My recent brush with death adds a real sense of weight to things, and it should go over well with the men, don't you think?"

"Almost nearly," Konowa said under his breath, "almost nearly."

In the thousands of years that the Baynama River had curled through eastern Elfkyna, long before the land had been named, it had forever run brown with the silt washed into it from the heavy rains that fell throughout the year.

Until today.

Konowa bent and pulled a wounded soldier away from the bank and paused. The crimson water in front of him frothed with the frenzied feeding of fish drawn to the surface.

"Major! Get down!"

Konowa threw himself flat against the grass as the sound of dozens of ice picks stabbing a piece of tin crackled above his head. The musket volley thrashed the forward line of elfkynan just entering the river thirty yards away, flailing their exposed flesh, exposing briefly the brilliance of white bone beneath. Elfkynan screamed. More slipped under the water, trampled underfoot by those not yet hit, their cries gurgling into abrupt silence as water filled their lungs and they vanished from sight.

An arrow pricked the ground inches from his head, the shaft quivering as if furious it had not found flesh. More arrows whistled past, answered by yet more musket fire, the smoke of the volley rolling over Konowa and temporarily blocking his view of the river. Over it all, the chants of "Sillra! Sillra!" ebbed and flowed like a coming tide, each wave climbing higher and higher onto the beach.

"I've got him, sir," Private Hrem Vulhber said, running through the smoke to grab the wounded soldier from Konowa and heave him over his shoulder. "You shouldn't be out in front of the line like this. You're not immortal."

Konowa allowed Hrem to drag him back over the wall of mud bricks, caring little if an elfkynan arrow hit him in the back as he halted on the edge, looking back down at the river.

"Maybe I am. Maybe we all are," he said, recognizing the feeling of utter futility. The elfkynan weren't going to stop. They surged forward in waves with no concern for their lives. The few prisoners the Iron Elves had taken that day wailed and begged to be killed. It wasn't until Konowa threatened to grant their wish by having Jir eat them, starting at their toes and working his way up, that one thought better of it.

"Paradise! Paradise forever! The Star has returned!"

"What paradise?" Konowa asked, motioning for Jir to take a few steps forward.

The elfkynan's eyes bulged. "Death does not matter. The Star has returned. All who perish in its service will be rewarded in the afterlife." Taking heart from his own words, the elfkynan ran into the open and stepped in front of one of the five-pounders just as it fired a canister shot.

Hrem reached up and pulled Konowa off the wall, dropping him behind it as several more arrows ricocheted off the mud bricks. He looked at Konowa for a moment, then nodded and moved back into the firing line a few feet away. Shouts of "Sillra…Sillra" still echoed across the battle, but for the first time, the weight of voice had decreased, the screams growing in volume as yet more elfkynan went to their paradise.

Even the yelling and taunting by the Iron Elves as the elfkynan had first charged the river had subsided into grunts and curses, and more than a few prayers for the poor buggers to stop, to just please stop.

This wasn't battle-this was butchery.

Ramrods rattled in musket barrels, sergeants barked hoarse commands to "look lively," "aim low," the gun carriages for the two five-pounders creaked and groaned as they shook under each blast, and through it all, the screams of the dying never stopped.

There was a boom from the fortress signaling the firing of the howitzer. Konowa looked up and saw the blur of the cannon ball arc overhead before it dipped and slammed into a group of elfkynan. For a moment, nothing happened, the cannon shell sitting half dug into the soft earth, its burning fuse hidden from view. The elfkynan laughed, and one stepped forward to place a foot on the shell when it exploded, tossing several of them into the air.

A private held on to Zwindarra's reins a few feet away, the horse remarkably calm amid all the chaos. It angered Konowa to needlessly risk the animal's life for no good reason. At least he'd been able to get Jir penned up in the fortress under Rallie's supervision. He'd miss that bengar more than a little if anything ever happened to it.

"They're absolutely mad!" Lorian said, riding up on one of the commandeered elfkynan horses. Halting beside Zwindarra, the horse-a dappled, shaggy-looking thing-looked like a large pony in comparison. Lorian dismounted, handing the reins to the private holding Zwindarra's, and walked up to peer over the wall by him. "Little boys with toy soldiers make better battle plans than this."

Konowa stood up and looked over in time to see six elfkynan crawl up onto the western bank in front of their position. They rose to their feet yelling fiercely, their eyes bright with belief as they were unceremoniously cut down by another round of canister shot fired at a range of twenty yards, the smoke of the blast blotting them from sight. When the smoke drifted away all that remained was madly thrashing fins and scaly mouths gulping down chunks of red, raw flesh floating in the water.

"How's our ammunition holding out?" Konowa asked, forcing himself to look away as two more elfkynan crawled onto the bank, one trying to hold his innards in with one hand while waving a mioxja with the other. Two sharp musket cracks told Konowa their fate.

"We're down to twenty rounds a man. I've ordered some of the canister shot cut open and more cartridges to be made, but I doubt there are that many of the dumb bastards left that will need it," Lorian said, sliding down from the wall to rest with his back against it beside Konowa.

"Losses?" Konowa asked.

"Eight dead and another fifteen wounded. Prince Tykkin has made it a priority to examine every wound himself to ensure there's no malingering," Lorian said, motioning with his halberd toward the casualty collection area a hundred yards back of the firing line. From there, the wounded were transported by a muraphant-pulled wagon up to the fortress. Those deemed insufficiently injured were sent stumbling back down to the line. Mercifully, there were only a few seriously wounded so far.

Konowa nodded, grabbing a canteen off the ground and offering it to Lorian. The RSM took a long pull and held it out to Konowa, who grabbed it and finished it off, the bitter taste of gunpowder temporarily diluted.

"I think it's time we let them force the gap," Konowa said, pointing to the one open section in the ring of trees that surrounded their position. A large abatis made of cut-down trees spiked with sharpened sticks lay across the road. They were normal trees, as attempts to use some of the black trees had gone nowhere. No soldier would get close enough to the blood trees to swing an ax. As it was, the abatis proved useful in blocking the growing number of elfkynan who were trying to find a way through. "We need to finish this now. Who knows what else is out there."

"Is that wise?" Lorian asked, cringing as a horse screamed in terror. Both Zwindarra and the elfkynan horse reacted, their ears pricking forward, the whites of their eyes showing. Lorian got up to look over the wall as the elfkynan cavalry made another futile charge. Konowa reluctantly followed suit, watching with sadness as hooves flashed through the red water, crushing skulls as the horses panicked and tried to run away. Unlike their riders, the animals had no illusions of immortality and paradise.

Konowa looked up at the sky and was surprised to see the sun already beginning to dip behind the fortress on the hill. "We don't have a choice. We do it now or we'll be fighting in the dark, and that's something I'd like to avoid."

Lorian finally turned away from the carnage and looked at Konowa. His eyes were rimmed with red, his face grime covered and pale. "Are you sure this will work?"

Konowa felt a cold surge as the acorn against his chest reminded him of what real power was. "One way to find out," he said, moving away from the wall and calling to the Color party. A small, fierce-looking sergeant followed by three large, equally fierce-looking corporals all brandishing halberds marched up with the regimental Color. Both the Queen's Color and that of the Prince were flying over the fortress.

"Sergeant Salia Aguom an' Color party reporting, sir!" the Color sergeant said. He saluted smartly, the flagstaff held comfortably against his left shoulder. He was one of the few siggers with black skin in the regiment, no doubt a volunteer from the Empire's southern conquests in the Timolia Island chain. Konowa knew the Timolia regiments to be fearsome warriors, an ethos developed over centuries of battling the red orcs of Winamaruk for control of the islands. From the battle scars on Aguom's face, it was clear the Color sergeant lived that tradition.

"I need you to fall back to where the wounded are and get the rest up to the fortress, then signal the retreat," Konowa said.

"At once, sir!" he said, saluting and marching away, the three corporals following close behind like a group of tavern strongmen hired to keep the rowdy at bay, which, in a way, was precisely their job…just with deadlier intent.

"I hope this works," Lorian said, watching the Color party move up the hill.

"We'll make it work," Konowa said, a growing confidence spreading through him. "This battle will be over shortly."

"And what will happen then, Major?" Rallie asked, appearing behind him and Lorian as if from thin air. A particularly large cigar was clamped firmly between her teeth, its smoke more pungent than usual.

"It will get dark," Konowa remarked, not wishing to get dragged into another conversation he had no answers for. "Where is Visyna?"

Rallie clucked and took the cigar out of her mouth, neatly stepping to one side as two arrows sliced through the place she had stood a moment before. A cannon boomed, the momentary silence after its shot followed by fewer elfkynan screams. "Tending the wounded up at the fortress. She is an angel, to hear the boys tell it. Many lives will be owed to her before the end of the day."

Konowa nodded, surprising Rallie and Lorian. "She'll probably do more good than we will. Tell her that whatever she needs, she gets. I want them given the best care possible."

Rallie and Lorian shared a look. "I will be most happy to convey that message, Major. And I sincerely hope there will be little more for her to do this day, though my heart tells me otherwise," she said, drawing deeply on her cigar as she eyed not the elfkynan army, but the ring of trees that surrounded them.

"Tell her…tell her I said thank you," Konowa said, his cheeks suddenly growing hot.

"I will, but make sure you're around to tell her yourself, too, when this is over," Rallie said, patting his arm, then leaving him and Lorian.

Konowa turned and saw Lorian staring at him. "Don't ask. Now, let's get this over with." They took the reins from a very relieved private, who scurried back to find some cover. Konowa climbed into the saddle, very aware of just how high off the ground he was as he looked down at Lorian on his smaller horse. Zwindarra tossed his head but remained calm.

"You volunteered for the cavalry?" Konowa asked, urging Zwindarra into a walk.

Lorian smiled, the first time in a while. "Major, it's the only way to fight. You feel that power of the horse beneath you, the wind in your face…it's magical-well, the kind of magic I understand," he added.

"You sound like the Duke," Konowa replied, shaking his head. "I never really have understood the relationship between a cavalryman and his horse."

Lorian nodded toward the fortress. "Some people might say the same about an officer and his bengar."

It was Konowa's turn to smile.

An arrow sliced down between the horses, spooking Lorian's slightly. "Signal the Color party," Konowa ordered.

Lorian tied a thin red pennant to his halberd and raised it high, waving it back and forth. A moment later a bugle sounded. The two platoons of C Company assigned to hold outside the ring of trees began an orderly retreat through the gap. As soon as they passed through, the other platoons started to give way slowly. It was apparent by their steps that they disagreed with the order. They had fought long and hard to hold the gap and had seen some friends die for it. And they were winning. The elfkynan charged and fell back only to charge again, their progress slowed by the mounting pile of bodies that littered the ground in front of the Iron Elves.

"They aren't pulling back fast enough," Lorian said, leaning forward in the saddle toward the gap.

Konowa gritted his teeth, silently urging the siggers on. He understood their feeling, but they had to make this look real.

There was a roar from beyond the trees and a group of elfkynan cavalry charged through the gap, their mioxja whistling as they swung them over their heads. They galloped headlong toward the retreating siggers. The five-pounder closest to the gap fired into their center, bowling over half a dozen horses and sending several more reeling. The momentum of two of the horses carried them another fifteen yards, stumbling into the line of Iron Elves and knocking several down. The soldiers quickly got up and reformed, but the damage had been done. Instead of one single line pulling back there was now a break, and the two halves began to pull apart as they retreated, creating a gap between them. The elfkynan following on foot saw their chance and ran headlong for the gap, seeing a chance to roll up the entire defensive line along the riverbank.

"Follow me!" Konowa shouted, drawing his saber and kicking Zwindarra with his heels. The horse neighed, leaped forward, and came close to unseating him now that he was holding the reins with only one hand.

The elfkynan were pushing the gap wider apart. Smoke bloomed from the front row of the Iron Elves and elfkynan tumbled and fell, but more came rushing through the gap, and there was now no time to reload. Another charge by the elfkynan cavalry would carry them through and behind the soldiers still holding the positions on the river. The acorn against his chest stabbed him with ice, spurring him on. He turned briefly to see Lorian galloping beside him, the point of his halberd lowered like a lance.

"Hold, you bastards, hold!" Konowa shouted, taking Zwindarra straight through the gap and into a group of elfkynan, who threw up their hands in surprise as the huge black horse came at them. Konowa brought his saber down on an elfkynan's arm, severing it at the elbow. Black frost sparkled on the wound and Konowa felt the familiar cold fury grip him. Zwindarra reared and flailed his hooves at two elfkynan in front of them, the sound of his steel shoes against skull bone loud and jarring.

Elfkynan screamed in pain and blood sprayed skyward. A mioxja whistled past Konowa's ear and he turned in the saddle and swung across his body, missing the elfkynan and almost cutting Zwindarra in the flanks. The force of the swing had him toppling out of the saddle, but Zwindarra shifted beneath him and he remained seated. The mioxja whipped the air again, the razor-sharp blades of jimik grass severing one of the wings of his shako. Zwindarra's head shot to the side and he bit the elfkynan in the stomach, lifting the screaming man into the air and shaking him. When Zwindarra let go, the elfkynan's innards lay strewn on the ground.

Konowa urged the horse forward at another group of elfkynan. He bent low in the saddle and stabbed one in the chest, the blade jumping in his hand as it hit spine. The wound began to blacken as frost fire licked around the embedded blade. The elfkynan wrenched himself backward, his shrieks ending abruptly as he vomited black ichor.

Two more elfkynan ran toward him, but before they got within distance of his saber or Zwindarra, Lorian came charging past on his horse and skewered the first on his halberd and rode over the second. An Iron Elf stepped out of the line and bayoneted the trampled elfkynan for good measure. Konowa noticed faint flickers of frost fire on the wounds.

He was still staring at the black flames when something hard struck him in the chest. Bitter cold burst over him and he fell from the saddle, barely able to kick his boots free from the stirrups as he did so. He landed flat on his back, the air rushing out of his lungs as everything went momentarily gray. The arrow that had struck the acorn under his jacket lay shattered a few feet away.

An elfkynan ran toward him, his screams of "Sillra! Sillra!" barely audible in the din of battle. Konowa tried to raise his saber, but his right arm was incapable of lifting a feather at that moment. A great black shadow loomed on top of him and Zwindarra dashed the elfkynan's brains out with a single flick of a front hoof.

The elfkynan charge faltered. Konowa's breath came back in a painful rush and he sat up, his limbs once again responding.

"Reform the line! Reform the line!" Lorian shouted, standing up in the saddle and motioning the troops to close the gap around Konowa. The soldiers began to move toward each other again, still falling back as they did so. Two grabbed hold of Konowa and helped him to his feet. He thanked them and gingerly got back into the saddle, allowing Zwindarra to carry him back toward Lorian.

Now that the gap had closed, the elfkynan attack turned to the new gap opening between the river and the fortress. The cannon covering the gap fired one more time, decimating a group of elfkynan and propelling the rest toward the fortress.

Seeing the fleeing soldiers, the elfkynan were encouraged, believing the Iron Elves had finally succumbed to the pressure.

A tremendous cheer sounded from the elfkynan ranks. Their bloody assault on the river directly across from the regiment slowed as the remaining forces shifted to cross near the gap. Konowa estimated at least a thousand elfkynan were still on their feet, but what he had in store for them would lower that number quickly.

The line of retreating siggers began to wheel to the left, falling back on the riverbank. This created an opening for the elfkynan to surge through between the fortress and the river. If they recognized the killing ground for what it was, they never showed it.

"Are you okay, Major?" Lorian said, trotting up to him on his horse. He reached out a hand, but instead of grabbing Konowa's elbow, he patted Zwindarra's neck.

"Thanks to this fellow I am," Konowa said, leaning forward to give the horse a pat as well.

"He's a fine beast, all right," Lorian said, clearly admiring the horse. "Fights like a real demon."

"Let's hope they don't," Konowa said, watching with growing dismay as the elfkynan ran past. Thousands were either dead or wounded, and why? Because they believed in a power greater than themselves, a power they believed would deliver their country from the Empire that controlled it. Konowa brought his hand up to his chest and felt the cold presence under his coat. What, he wondered, was he fighting for?

"Major?"

Konowa grunted an acknowledgment, watching the elfkynan stream past, their euphoria childlike. Once they were within the ring of trees, the trap would be sprung.

Konowa looked up the hill to see the Color party running into the fortress where the rest of C Company waited, along with the supporting howitzer. He looked back and saw that every second man in the firing line along the river had spun about to face the fortress.

The elfkynan were now caught in the middle.

The final slaughter needed only his command.