A Darkness Forged in Fire (12 page)

DOES YOUR HEART BEAT FAST TO TREAD THE PATH OF GLORY?

No better time than now offers itself to smart young elves and NOW humans, too. (Dwarves need not apply!) Come, be a part of history as the Light Infantry of the Hynta, the Iron Elves, the most famous siggers to ever wear Her Majesty's colors, march again!

Enjoy the Honor of being commanded by HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, PRINCE TYKKIN, whose distinguished ability and flawless character is so great that no language can do it justice.

NB.
Clothing and accoutrements are of the highest quality and all soldiers accepted into the rank will be provided the famous winged shako. Arrears paid to relieve soldiers of obligations to debtors including relatives, business associates, former regiments, and up to three wives.

Konowa crumpled the leaflet in his hand and let it fall to the ground. The only path they were likely to tread in the coming days was one washed with blood. He looked up and started walking toward the parade square where the new regiment was being formed.

Everything was moving too fast, and all in the wrong direction.

Just a week ago, his biggest concern had been getting smothered by mosquitoes in the forest. Now he was enmeshed in a web of events he didn't begin to understand, but he knew he'd better if he and the regiment were going to survive. Nothing that had happened to him so far gave him much hope, especially the notion that there was a shadowy hand guiding things as his father suggested. He instinctively patted his coat, where the pouch Jurwan had given him was tucked away. He was constantly reaching for it, a little worried that he should suddenly feel so attached to the blackness held within. Every so often he would feel a sensation as if the leather had been worn away, allowing the cold smoothness of the acorn's shell to rub against his skin, sending a sudden chill coursing through his body. Despite the heat, it was a feeling he could have done without. Each time it happened, he felt tempted to open it up and look inside, and each time he fought it. His life was growing increasingly more complicated by the day without adding to its difficulties by ignoring a wizard's warning. Perhaps, he mused, his newfound restraint boded well.

"Get your hard head back to the wagons. The regiment isn't
accepting any dwarves!"

As usual, Konowa was dead wrong. He looked up to see a large group of soldiers milling about the parade square as a sergeant yelled at a dwarf soldier. Konowa recognized the dwarf as the one Jir had taken an interest in.

"Trouble?" Konowa asked. Jaal had recommended Sergeant Lorian be promoted as the Iron Elves' regimental sergeant major and Konowa had happily agreed. As with most of the details, the Prince had neglected to find an RSM and no regiments would give theirs up. Konowa came to a halt in front of the troops and returned Lorian's salute while the soldiers came to attention. It was still taking Konowa by surprise—the only salute he'd received in the forest had been Jir lifting his leg.

"No, sir, I was just culling the herd. The Prince's
leaflet has attracted quite a few volunteers, including this dwarf."

It was said evenly enough, but Lorian clearly disapproved of the soldiers gathered around them. Not that Konowa blamed the man, a career soldier and proud of his service. The collection of troops before them
was
appalling. Every regiment, regular army, and those assigned to protect the Trading Company had taken the Prince's gold and selected the very worst from within its ranks. It appeared that every corner of the Empire was represented. There was a group of black-skinned warriors from the southern islands, the number of battles they had participated in marked in scarring lines on their cheekbones, and even a pair of pale, pasty fellows with corn-yellow hair who could only be from the northern fishing enclaves of the Dirilza. Konowa knew there wasn't a weedier, rougher-looking group of soldiers assembled anywhere within the Empire at that very moment.

Of course, there was one bright exception. Before he'd left, the Duke of Rakestraw had convinced five of his hussars to transfer to the reformed Iron Elves: four veteran troopers and, of course, Sergeant now Regimental Sergeant Major Dhareg Lorian, the latest in a growing list of those who had tried to kill Konowa on first meeting. They weren't elves, but they were first-class soldiers, and that was rare enough.

Konowa turned his attention to the dwarf.

"A dwarf, you say? Well, that would certainly explain his height," Konowa said, giving the soldier a quick appraisal. Little more than four feet tall, he was as broad as any two elves across the shoulders. Obvious intelligence sparkled in a pair of clear blue eyes, about the only feature of his face besides a squashed nose that his beard of tangled black hair, in which the remnants of his breakfast still clung, didn't obscure. His uniform looked like a collection of rags held together by spells instead of stitching, but his boots were sturdy and well polished and his double-barreled shatterbow and the scabbard for his drukar gleamed with obvious care.

The dwarf's mouth opened and closed, but then he nodded and smiled.
"You have a keen mind you have, sir. I was tellin' my mate Alwyn here that very thing I was. That officer there, I said, he's a bright one. I like to be forthright an'
honest like a good sigger should in explaining to these youngsters the ways and
means of the world, keeping in mind the vagaries of service to her Blessed
Majesty all the while—"

"Can you read, Private?" Konowa asked, cutting him off.

"Oh, yes, sir, Major. See my pay book," he said, lifting the top of his shako and pulling out a small red booklet and opening it to the first page.
"Says Private Yimt Arkhorn right across the top there."

Konowa looked. There were a multitude of marks and notations for transgressions of military law and good order, most falling under the infamous four-letter rubric BWTD—Brawling-Whoring-Thieving-Drinking. The area for rank had clearly been erased and rewritten several times.
"It appears that it used to say Sergeant Arkhorn, Royal Engineers. That's a long
way from nursemaiding wagon trains."

Private Arkhorn coughed. "Misunderstandings and out-and-out jealousy, sir. Some folk just aren't as keen to serve Her Majesty as others, you see, and they resent those of us like you and me who excel, if you take my meaning. You can't
make a spell without breaking a few crystal balls, as me grandmare used to say,
but alas, not everyone holds to that philosophy."

"Impertinent little rat," Lorian growled, taking a step closer.
"He's been busted more times than I've had hot dinners, Major."

Konowa flipped through the pay book and was astounded to see paymaster stamps dating back over thirty years, from virtually every major campaign and battle the Imperial Army had fought in. He handed back the pay book and raised his hand.
"And seen more fighting, too. However, that doesn't address our problem. If you can read, Private, then you'd
know the call for troops excluded dwarves."

"Begging the Major's pardon, but that's not true," he said. To prove his point, he lifted the top of his shako again and pulled out one of the leaflets, turned it upside down, and pointed to the part about dwarves.
"See here, in black ink it says dwarves need not apply? Well, that's as plain as the wart on a witch's teat. Means dwarves are automatically accepted; we don't even
need
to apply."

Konowa looked away momentarily to hide the smile on his face. Lorian, however, had just about lost it.

"This is absurd, sir," Lorian interrupted. "The dwarf
is making a mockery of the call for volunteers. The Iron Elves—"

"Is now made up of humans," Konowa said calmly, looking at the sergeant,
"so adding a dwarf doesn't seem all that troublesome."

"But his teeth, sir, look at them. He's one of them
rock eaters."

"Eat rocks?" the dwarf roared. "What kind of mad-hatter do you take me for, begging your pardon, sir. You don't eat them, you
chew
them."

Konowa had indeed noticed the pewter-colored set of teeth in the dwarf's mouth.

"Grew up in the mines did you, Urilian Mountains?" Konowa asked.

The dwarf nodded. "That I did, sir. Was noshing my first bit of crute afore I was even weaned. Bit tough on me dear old ma'am. But not to worry, I ain't lit off a cartridge yet on account I use Lil' Nipper here," he said, patting the shatterbow affectionately.
"The range is a tad shorter than a musket, but she makes up for it in wallop. Been in the family for years. It was my aunt's, you know." He smiled, his metal-impregnated teeth glinting like newly minted coins.

Konowa turned to Lorian. "He could probably ignite every cartridge and shell from here to Calahr with that silver tongue of his, so I don't think there's much point worrying about his teeth. We're going to need every able-bodied soldier we can get. He can stay. In fact," Konowa said, stepping away from the troops so they could all see him,
"any sigger that wants to tread that path of glory and prove himself can stay. I don't care what you've done up to this point, and I don't care who you are. From this moment on, you are Iron Elves, and if you aren't the finest troops in all the lands right now, you will be." Konowa refrained from adding the postscript:
or you'll be dead
.

A bugle call sounded from over by the Prince's marquee, three long, two short, two long. Konowa grimaced then resumed a look of nonchalance as he turned and headed back to see what the Prince wanted now. The voice of Private Arkhorn carried on the air like the squawk of a nattering magpie.

"See that, I told you I'd convince him!"

"But you were complaining ever since Corporal Kritton volunteered us. You said that joining the Hintys was a one-way ticket to death and glory," another soldier said.

"Glory and death, Ally," the dwarf corrected him,
"glory and death. The key is to get them in the right order, and make sure there
is a lot of space between them so you can enjoy the first."

"You think we'll get a chance for that?"

"Ally," Arkhorn said, his voice dropping low so that Konowa could barely hear it,
"I think we'll get more chances than we can use in a lifetime."