The Light of Burning Shadows

THREE

The first black arrows from Her elves whistled from somewhere deeper among the trees. The Iron Elves were ready. Thick oak planks, another item borrowed from the Black Spike, swung up to shield the soldiers and crew. Wood and arrows splintered, sending lethal shrapnel everywhere. Men screamed. Two tumbled overboard into the water, their cries abruptly silenced under the waves.

Konowa’s anger surged. Her elves had learned a new trick. Well, so had his boys.

“Cannon…second volley…fire!”

The cannon roared again, but this time Arkhorn had loaded it with chain shot. It was simple in design and lethal in use. Two cannonballs attached by a length of chain flew from the muzzle and began spinning, scything down everything in their path. Originally intended to cut through the masts of enemy ships, chain shot was equally effective at tearing through Her forest, and the creatures in it.

“Remember, we want to try to capture one of the elves!” Konowa shouted, knowing it was likely futile. And even if they did capture one, Konowa wasn’t sure what good it would do. These elves were as dark and twisted as the Shadow Monarch’s trees.

Screams of rage and pain among the rakkes lifted high into the sky as the keel of the boat ground to a halt in the sand. Konowa used the momentum to leap ashore, but he was already several paces behind Private Renwar and Jir. Konowa knew his place was with the men, leading them in a methodical march across the island, but all his pent-up rage spilled forth as it had on every island before this. He knew in his heart this was about revenge. The Shadow Monarch had used his father, in a ploy to get to him, and in so doing bound Konowa and the new Iron Elves in an eternal oath. She haunted all their dreams now, calling to them. Konowa felt the pull, but he felt something else more; fury.

Frost fire burned wickedly along the blade of Konowa’s saber. He grinned and charged, looking for things to kill.

Sergeant Arkhorn was yelling something about staying out of the line of fire of the cannon, but Konowa was already through the mounds of dead and dying rakkes and among the sarka har, the blood trees of the Shadow Monarch. Every anguish Konowa had ever experienced fell before his blade. He slashed the limbs of the trees with so much force that the tendons in his shoulder began to burn with the first few swings. Wherever his blade made contact, the wood burst into cold flame, the black fire consuming them with merciless efficiency.

Konowa smiled, a nervous habit he had in battle, and slashed again. Black, icy flames traced arcs in the air as his saber hacked and burned the sarka har. These trees should not exist. The Shadow Monarch’s twisted mind was creating nightmarish forests that threatened every living thing. His whole life had been lived under Her tainted magic. Here, now, he could avenge that fate.

“Your power is mine, elf witch!” he roared, cleaving a tree completely in two. “And I will end you with it!”

An arrow passed so close to his cheek that the fletching brushed the skin. Konowa turned to trace the source, but Jir was faster still. The bengar leaped, his massive jaws closing on the throat of the dark elf and bearing it to the ground. Konowa didn’t even bother trying to call Jir off. The elf was dead before he hit the ground.

Three rakkes burst through the trees and straight at Konowa. Their milky-white eyes bulged as they charged, drool flying from long, yellow fangs. Konowa pivoted in place to meet them. Another figure came in from Konowa’s left side and crashed into the nearest rakke, knocking it off its feet and into the path of the other two.

“Renwar!” Konowa shouted, recognizing the soldier at once. Private Renwar stood above the first rakke, the bayonet of his musket lodged so deeply in the creature’s rib cage that he couldn’t pull it back out.

The other two rakkes were back on their feet in an instant and both now focused on the private. Six-inch-long claws swung for his head. Konowa lunged forward and brought his saber down two-handed, severing a rakke’s arm at the elbow. Frost fire exploded at the wound and raced up its body, sending it whirling away.

The third rakke leaped and took Renwar to the ground. Konowa raised his saber to strike again, but a fist-sized hole suddenly appeared in the rakke’s back and frost fire flew out. Konowa kicked the body to the side and reached down a hand to help Renwar up, then took it back in surprise. Black flames, darker and more intense than any Konowa himself had yet conjured, blazed in the young soldier’s hands. Konowa tried to read Renwar’s face, but the flame reflected in the soldier’s spectacles made it appear as if his very eyes were afire.

“Behind you, Major.”

The black acorn sent a cold sliver of warning into Konowa’s heart as he turned to confront a group of rakkes carrying jagged shards of wood.

“Get your arse in the sand now!” bellowed a voice from the water’s edge. Konowa dove forward even as the rakkes moved to within yards of him. One raised a makeshift club and began to swing it down.

A cannon boomed and the world vanished. Smoke and sand whipped over Konowa, partially lifting him off the ground. Sparks stung the back of his hands and neck as the unmistakable sound of heavy metal sawing through the air passed overhead. His nose and ears clogged with sand and something wet. Black and white and orange flashes danced across the inside of his eyelids.

Konowa blinked several times and propped himself up to his elbows. The chain shot had done its job well. What was left of the rakkes lay in a congealing puddle of blood and debris. It looked as if the dwarf was determined to keep his stripes this time.

“Renwar, are you-” Konowa started to ask, but the soldier had already gotten up and was charging off deeper into the trees. Frost fire blazed in the soldier’s hands and along the length of his musket. With no time to ponder the matter, Konowa got to his feet and dusted himself off. He flexed his right hand, holding his saber, and found that it still had strength.

“Did you see where Private Renwar went, sir?” Sergeant Arkhorn asked, stepping over the bodies with little concern. He held his shatterbow at the ready, its twin muzzles sweeping the area as he walked.

“I’m fine, Sergeant,” Konowa said, making a point of flicking a piece of rakke skull off his uniform.

Arkhorn nodded. “Of course you are, sir. I shouted a warning, didn’t I? Have you seen Ally?”

Before Konowa could answer there was a shriek and the sound of a musket firing from up ahead. Konowa sensed frost fire burning and was staggered by the power in it.

“Never mind, sir, I know where he is,” Arkhorn said. “All right laddies, we’ve done this before.” He motioned for a section of Iron Elves to form up around him. “Make a wedge and keep your necks on swivels or it won’t be Her darlings you have to worry about.” Someone groaned.

“Why not let the DDs take care of this? They’re dead already and we ain’t. Why do we have to keep risking our necks, eh?”

Konowa couldn’t see who had asked the question, but it wasn’t the first time it had been voiced. It started shortly after the DDs, or Darkly Departed-the shadows of the dead-had first appeared in support of the regiment.

Sergeant Arkhorn put two fingers to his lips and whistled between his metal teeth. It sounded like twenty kettles on the boil. “One more outburst like that and you’ll be swimming from here to the Hasshugeb Expanse. You bloody well know the “Darkly Departed’ don’t like it when the sun’s coming up. They’re dead. The night is their domain and all that. Honestly, did your mum never read you any fairy tales? We’re on our own. Stay smart, well, as smart as you lot can, and we’ll come out of this just fine. Stay spread out and don’t do anything stupid. I don’t want you grouped together and making any easy target,” Sergeant Arkhorn said, looking around at the soldiers and waiting until each one nodded.

“Oh, and ten gold pieces from the Prince himself for any man who captures an elf, present company excepted,” he finished, touching his hand to his shako in salute.

Konowa returned it, unable to entirely hide a smile.

“By the left…move your arses!” The soldiers followed Arkhorn, the bayonets on the end of some of their muskets wreathed in black flame.

Konowa recognized a couple of them as they marched past, including the towering form of Private Hrem Vulhber. Konowa nodded, but the soldier only stared at him for a moment before carrying on. It was insubordination, but Konowa was letting a lot of things go these days. The sooner they were done with this island, the sooner they could finally land in the Hasshugeb Expanse and join up with the original Iron Elves. Then the Shadow Monarch would truly reap the whirlwind She had created.