Read A Darkness Forged in Fire Online
Authors: Chris (chris R.) Evans
A Darkness Forged in Fire (22 page)
"I'll hold, Corporal," Alwyn said, smiling back at his friend.
Yimt nodded and trotted to the next hole, fifteen yards over. He paused, got a better grip on his drukar, and strolled right in.
Alwyn was at the back of the mound and hidden from view from the officers and the rest of the regiment. The other members of the section had already gone into their holes, leaving him alone outside. His eyes now picked up hints of things he wished he'd not seen. Bits of white bone were scattered between beaten paths of dirt that ran between the holes and over the mound. Something, or somethings, had definitely lived here. The question was whether they were still down there.
K
onowa debated going after the troops and leading them into the mound. He took a step forward, then something made him turn. Visyna was walking toward him in the rain. He stopped, unable to keep from staring at her as she moved. She came to an arm's length from him and stopped, staring back at him. For several moments neither one of them said a word. Lightning fretted within rumbling clouds and Konowa tried to find the anger he'd felt after the faeraug attack, but he missed having her this close to him.
"Listen, about the other night," he said, "you have to
understand, out here, my men come first."
She nodded. "And you must understand that out here, my
land and my people come first."
"Perhaps when we get out of here we could come first," he said, hoping the driving rain drowned out the squeak in his voice.
"I kind of enjoyed it when it was just the two of us."
"So did I," she said, stepping closer. "Perhaps we won't have to wait until we are out of here. Rallie and I have been talking. I think you and I have more in common than I thought. We both want the same things." She reached out a hand to touch him, then stopped, her fingers just above his chest.
"I will do all in my power to protect you and this regiment. Please, get rid of
it."
Konowa hung his head, but the rain sluicing down his collar quickly forced his head up again.
"I really wish"
The sound of an explosion drifted up from belowground. And then the shouting and screaming started.
"Oh, hell."
Alwyn saw yellow, then white, then black. An acrid wind blew past him, followed by clods of dirt, and he turned his head away from the open hole. When he dared to look again, thick, dark smoke was roiling out of the mound in a dozen different places.
"Yimt?" he called. There was no reply. He had opened his mouth to yell again when black shapes began darting out of the smoke.
"Bats!"
The cry went up everywhere as hundreds then thousands of the night creatures flew up from the mound and into the smoke and rain. They formed a growing cloud of whirling wings and high-pitched screeching as they circled the mound.
They moved like a big school of fish in the sky, darting this way and that.
Then they dove.
Alwyn barely had time to switch his grip on his musket and use it as a club when the first of the bats screeched toward him. Their eyes bulged white and milky and their fangs glistened with saliva.
Alwyn swung hard, knocking two bats out of the sky. A dozen more swarmed over him. They screamed and darted around his head, beating their wings in fury against his arms as they tried to get at his face. Everything was a blur of black leathery wings, white eyes, and wicked-looking fangs.
"Put me down, you buggers!"
Alwyn swatted three more bats to the ground and turned toward the sound of Yimt's voice. The bats, dozens of them, were trying to carry Yimt away.
Alwyn took a few steps toward Yimt, but was stopped as more bats began swarming around his legs. The thought of one of these creatures flying up his caerna gave new energy to his tiring arms, and he swung his musket like a scythe. Blood and gristle covered his face and hands and made holding the musket difficult.
Musket fire crackled to life somewhere to the left, but Alwyn couldn't imagine it would have much effect. The regiment didn't have enough musket balls to kill all the bats.
"Lie down!"
It sounded like the witch, Miss Tekoy. Alwyn dove to the earth, curling his legs up underneath him. A moment later, the air thrummed with energy and for the second time in as many minutes his vision was filled by first yellow, then white, then black.
The air went eerily silent. Then it began to rain bats.
Alwyn scrambled to his feet as the creatures began tumbling to earth, their leathery bodies smashing to the ground with sickening wet sounds.
Jir bounded into view and began leaping into the air to grab the bats as they fell, as if it were a game. Several soldiers were doing much the same, only they were trying to catch the falling bats on their bayonets. Alwyn shook his head and turned back toward Yimt, who was struggling to pull a bat out of his beard. A quick snap of the neck ended the bat's struggle and Yimt held it up by a wing.
"So what do we do now?" Alywn asked.
Yimt looked at the bat in his hand, then back at Alwyn.
"Dinner."
Visyna knew she hadn't had a choice in killing the bats, just as it had been with the faerangs, but it still made her ill. This was nature perverted. The bats had been driven by far more than anger and hunger. She headed for the grove of trees while the soldiers ran around like little boys. It didn't bother her that the troops were acting like little boys as they did this, she told herself. What did bother her was Konowa. He refused to recognize the danger of carrying a piece of the Shadow Monarch's mountain with him, even as he tried to be more understanding of her concerns.
Life thrummed through the land here, a cleaner, more wholesome energy than what had coursed through the vine-covered plain, but it was clear that Elfkyna was sick. Nothing felt the way it should, and it was getting worse. Her concern about Konowa's affections suddenly struck her as utterly foolish. He was a soldier for an Empire that had subjugated her people and land. She chided herself; she would not succumb to passion when the world she knew teetered on the edge of oblivion.
Her pace quickened and she walked briskly to the edge of the grove, then stopped and looked around. Soldiers milled around several fires and even Rallie was occupied, having accepted the Prince's invitation to dinner in Visyna's place. She stepped through the trees and onto a thin strip of grass that ran around the edge of a small pool of still water as black as the sky above it. She sat down and began to seek.
It was easier this time. Her fingers traced filigrees of light in the shadows before her, creating silvery skeins that spread out through the web of natural life, calling. The pool's surface roiled in response to her efforts, scattering shards of light and shadow like daggers about the grove, but none penetrated beyond the trees, for shadows had filled the spaces between until anyone looking from outside the grove would have seen nothing but darkness within.
"He is a threat."
The grove of trees contained the voice, amplifying it so that it resonated within her body. She shuddered and looked away from the brilliant emptiness of the light as she stood up.
"Konowa means well, but he is confused about the right thing to do." The words came out in a rush, as if saying them fast mitigated the guilt she suddenly felt.
The light refracted into the blackness and the earth moved beneath her feet. It felt as if the very ground was dissolving beneath her.
"He must be stopped."
There was tenseness to the voice Visyna had never heard before. She started to tell the Star of the power Konowa now possessed, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to say it.
"He is stubborn and a fool, but his desire is to protect the Iron Elves. I
understand that desire."
"As you did on the plains."
It sounded like a rebuke. "I respect all life, but my
loyalty remains to my land, my people, and our rightful heritage. I will do
everything in my power to see that you are returned to the elfkynan, but I see
no reason that others should die needlessly to achieve that goal."
"Your lack of vision is
disturbing. She will bend him to Her will, and I am not strong enough yet to
stop it. It is why you were chosen."
There was a long pause, and then the Star spoke again.
"Perhaps a woman is too weak for this task."
Visyna bristled at the thought. "I will not fail. When
the time comes, I will do what is necessary."
"The time is closer than you
think. Another will aid you in your task."
Before Visyna could protest, the image of the Star disappeared within a collapsing brilliance that seemed to suck the very vision from her eyes. She reached out a hand to steady herself but could find no tree to grab. She blinked several times, and seeing a faint source of light, took a step toward it. Her foot splashed down into water and she would have tumbled into the pool but for a hand that grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. Her scream was muffled by another that covered her mouth, and then gently withdrew. Visyna rubbed her eyes then opened them, and the grove and light from the campfires was visible again. She was finally able to look at the owner of the hand still on her arm.
"Private Kritton at your service, my lady," the elf said.
I
t smells of the very bowels of all that is unholy," Inkermon said, holding his nose as he stood in the main entranceway to the mound.
"A bit pungent, I'll admit," Yimt said, holding up a burning brand to look down a tunnel.
"Still, beats being aboveground, in my book. Now, let's get in here and set up
home before some of the others get the idea."
Alwyn did his best to breathe through his mouth as he and the rest of the section followed Yimt down the tunnel and deeper into the mound. Alwyn doubted any of the other soldiers would be in a rush to claim the mound as a shelter.
As they walked downward the flaming brand revealed a series of masterfully worked words along the walls. Alwyn couldn't read the language, but he sensed their purpose as some kind of protective talisman. The words flowed into shapes, and soon the walls were covered in finely carved reliefs.
Human-like figures of majestic proportions cavorted in a great erotic orgy of limbs and other parts so that it was impossible to tell where one body ended and another began. Unlike the statue of the deity outside, these carvings were raw, unadorned by paint, the naked sandstone taking on an almost fleshlike hue as a result. Alwyn gaped, fascinated and horrified at the same time, as they entered a large room, presumably a bedchamber, although there was no furniture to be found. Feelings welled up inside him that he had felt before, but as yet had not had the chance to do anything about. He found he was breathing fast and took a long swig from his canteen, trying to look everywhere but at the walls.
Unlike Alwyn, Yimt always seemed at ease and ready to pounce at the same time. There was something about the way he just owned the air he breathed and the space around him that other men respected, and feared, even if they couldn't say why. Alwyn knew some of the why, though, having seen the dwarf in action.
Yimt was combing out his beard with the end of his small, wooden dagger. Every so often a bug would flutter free of the tangled mess and zip off toward one of the flaming brands that were lighting their new, temporary home.
The smell of the cave, for it was hard not to think of it as such, was actually less foul now that they were deep inside iteither that or they were becoming used to the smell. Whatever the case, Alwyn began to think staying the night wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Here," Yimt said, holding out one of his canteens to Inkermon,
"have a swig of this, and prepare to lose some money."
Inkermon recoiled and shook his head vigorously. "I'll thank you to keep that vile swill away from me, and not to tempt me with your sinful games of chance." He looked around at the rest of them.
"Have you no shame? You sit in a room of decadent, lustful filth, but I will
not. I am a man of faith."
At this the dwarf cocked a bushy eyebrow, a feat made all the more spectacular as it disappeared under the rim of his shako.
"Indeed? How is it then you come to be part of this jolly band of brothers? My sad story is too long to recount here, poor Alwyn there suffers from the stupidity of youth, no offense, lad, you'll grow out of it, and the rest of these ragged scarecrows," he said, waving a hand at the section sitting around the room,
"are highwaymen, robbers, and thievesall falsely convicted, no doubt, and press-ganged into the service. But what about you, eh? Maybe it's time we all got to know each other a bit better, seeing as we're
all one big family now."
Inkermon sniffed and spat on the ground, nowhere near Yimt, then spun around on his heel, bent low, and stomped away up a tunnel.
"Another time then?" Yimt called after him. The other soldiers laughed and sent a few catcalls of their own after the farmer. Yimt waved them to settle down.
"All right, let him be. Every man's got a right to think what he will, and that
goes for the lot of you, too. But with rights comes responsibility, and one of
them is to keep a good chunk of what you believe to yourself."
There were a few puzzled stares, Alwyn's included. Yimt shook his head and gave an exaggerated sigh.
"Use what little intelligence you haven't drunk away, lads. Think on it. This army has got more races than a dragon has scales, and each one's
got a way of looking at the world different from the next. Take our major up
there. Not only is he an elf, he comes from the other side of the ocean. And you
know who lives over there, that elf-witch the Sha"
"Do not speak Her name!" The whole room jumped as Inkermon scrambled back through another tunnel to emerge in the room, a small white book clutched in his hand and held against his breast.
"She is a pretender to the throne of the Great Father, creator of the world. To
speak Her name is to call Her near. How can you sit idly by while Her
abominations crawl over the earth again! Do you not see, the end is near!"
Murmurs rose. Alwyn looked at Yimt, who was sitting very, very still. When he spoke, it was in a whisper that carried around the room like lead shot.
"The only end that is near is yours if you keep talking like that. Your so-called Great Father is a great
human
father who created
man
in his image, not the rest of us."
Yimt slowly rose to a standing position. Alwyn gasped as the dwarf slowly pulled his drukar from its scabbard. Inkermon saw it, too, and held the little white book out before him as if it would ward off the blow.
"You're one of them Pure Order believers," Yimt said, his voice never rising as he took a step forward.
"I figured you to be just a puritan know-it-all, but it goes deeper than that, doesn't
it?"
"I believe in the One Creator and His vision of a pure, ordered world for the peoples who live in it," Inkermon said, his voice quavering, but his eyes burning with an intensity that bordered on madness.
"It is clear that His order is being challenged even as we speak. It is up to
His true believers to put things right."
"Is that so? And in that little book of yours, does it
mention dwarves, orcs, and folk like that as true believers, too?"
Inkermon sneered. "There was no need to list the
lesser races, for they were not created by Him. That is why the world today is
polluted with magics and cults and evil. Only He should wield such power, sayeth
the scripture!"
Alwyn thought Yimt would decapitate Inkermon then and there, but instead the dwarf actually smiled.
"So you admit your creator was nothing more than a
flouncy wizard? Way I hear it, a couple hundred years back, he and a few of his
sorcerer buddies went whoring and drinking one night and made the whole thing up
to impress the gals in the brothel."
Inkermon sputtered with rage. "Blasphemy! You
dirt-born slug! How dare you slander Him!"
The drukar whistled in the air between them and stopped an inch from Inkermon's neck.
The other soldiers were frozen. It was clear to Alwyn no one was going to stop Yimt. He was on his feet and beside the dwarf before he knew what he was doing.
"I think you should put the drukar down, Yimt," he said. The blade hung perfectly still, a black shadow on Inkermon's shoulder. A large vein in the farmer's neck throbbed and Alwyn imagined the blood gushing out, splattering the ceiling.
"The world would be a better place without the likes of him." Yimt's knuckles grew white as he gripped the hilt of the drukar.
"And you'd be hung, and then who would lead our section? Besides, you said everyone was entitled to an opinion, and this is his. I'm not saying I agree with it, because I don't, but if everyone started killing people they disagreed with there wouldn't
be many people left, now would there."
Yimt blinked, then turned his head slightly and looked him in the face. Several seconds passed in complete silence. Inkermon's eyes darted wildly between him and Yimt and then down to the blade that hovered beside his neck. Finally, Yimt nodded and slowly lowered the drukar, never looking at Inkermon.
"Go pray to your creator," Yimt muttered, turning his back to the farmer, who scrambled down the tunnel and out of sight.
Yimt looked at each soldier in turn, then at Alwyn. He reached out a hand and patted him on the elbow.
"Ally, not that I'm going anywhere, but if I did, I can't think of a better man to lead this section than you." With that, the dwarf sat down, leaning back against an impressive pair of carved breasts, and began taking apart his shatterbow while the other soldiers hooted at Alwyn as the next king of Calahr.
"Leave the poor boy alone, now," Yimt said, squinting one eye and looking down the right-side barrel of his weapon.
"You all know he's got the smarts, lot more than you lot put together."
"What about me, then?" a soldier asked, his cheeks puffing out two enormous muttonchops of brown scraggly whiskers.
Yimt looked over the barrel to his questioner, one eye only, his eyebrow threatening to disappear again under the rim of his shako.
"Buuko, you couldn't dump piss out of a boot if the instructions were written on
the heel."
"I can read well enough," Buuko said in response, sticking his chest out with pride and hooking his thumbs in his suspenders.
More laughter greeted this, and Alwyn couldn't help but join in. Buuko, not much taller than Yimt and as scrawny as a winter chicken, opened and closed his mouth in apparent outrage, then shrugged and started cleaning his musket.
"Make sure you do 'em right," Yimt said, addressing the entire section.
"In a climate like this, the moisture will have your musket rusted away to dust inside a week if you don't get at it every day. As me grandmare used to say, keep your musket and your pecker clean and you're
likely to live to a ripe old age."
"She said that?" Alwyn asked, finding a place to sit down between Teeter, who was puffing steadily on his pipe, and Alik, who seemed to be having difficulty holding his musket and cleaning it. Alwyn leaned over and helped him steady it, getting a smile and thanks.
"Too right she did. Full of wisdom, she was. Knew more
about this world than you lot put together. Reminds me of a time once a way
back. Still gnawing on sandstone and chunks of pottery. Seems there was a young
miner who…"
Alwyn smiled and began cleaning his musket as Yimt rambled on. It was a comfortable feeling. He let his gaze drift around the room and was amazed that the carvings were losing their effect on him until he saw one in particular that might or might not have included a goat. He grabbed the pricker hanging from a lanyard on his jacket and bent over his musket, working the thin steel needle into the touchhole and digging out bits of dirt. If the hole was plugged there would be no way for the spark in the pan to ignite the charge inside the barrel. It amazed him something so small could make such a difference. He looked over at Yimt and was pleased to realize that went for people, as well.
"Now, who wants to live dangerously?"
Alwyn looked at the dwarf, detecting more than a hint of mischief in his voice.
Yimt dipped a hand into his upturned shako and removed a well-used deck of cards from inside.
"Ante up, ladies. Elfkynan siasters are worth twelve to the Imperial sovereign
or four colonial mints, nickel-silver, that is, for you shady types that have a
pocket full of copper."
