A Darkness Forged in Fire (26 page)

M
ewling cries burst forth all around the soldiers as rakkes charged out of the forest.

It was so sudden Alwyn didn't have time to be scared. He pulled the cork from the end of his musket and ripped the oilcloth from the lock, cocked the hammer back, and fired in one continuous motion. To his amazement the musket worked, the butt slamming reassuringly against his shoulder. A thick cloud of smoke and sparks blossomed in front of him as the musket ball flew forty yards and straight into the stomach of a rakke. He had no time to see if the creature got back up as he scrambled to reload. Other muskets fired and shouts rose from up ahead. The distinct sound of a double roar and detonations signaled Yimt had fired his shatterbow.

"Close up! Close up!"

Inkermon ran past him toward the front, his shako gone, his eyes wild.
"The end is here!
The end is here!
"

Alwyn bit into a cartridge and poured the powder down the muzzle, almost stabbing himself on the bayonet attached at the end of the barrel. Teeter walked up calmly to stand beside him, his musket already reloaded.

"Wait until they're close; too many trees out there."

Alwyn looked up and saw what Teeter meant. Rakkes were screaming and calling to each other from behind the cover of trunks. The first volley had obviously surprised them. Alwyn finished ramming the new ball home and brought his musket up to his shoulder again.

"What are they doing?" he asked, swinging his musket back and forth trying to get a bead on one of the creatures. Like the rakke he and Yimt had killed back at camp, these wore the rudiments of clothes. Unlike the first rakke, however, they also appeared to be carrying clubs. Instead of rushing forward, they started roaring and banging their clubs against the sides of the trees, creating a terrible noise and shaking loose a shower of wet leaves that began falling all around them.

Buuko, Alik, and Scolly came jogging up the path to stand near them. Alik was clutching his stick in both hands and looking all around him. He was clearly terrified, and Alwyn couldn't blame him. It'd be hard for anyone to feel brave wearing just one sock and having a stick for a weapon.

"Why'd they stop?" Alik asked, jumping as another rakke screamed and Scolly fired at it. There was a loud crack and a burst of bark and splinters from a tree trunk. The rakke roared and ran a few steps forward, baring its fangs.

"We showed them who was boss, didn't we?" Buuko said, his voice triumphant as he aimed and shot the rakke in the mouth. The back of the creature's head disintegrated and it tumbled to the ground and lay still.
"You should have stayed extinct, you dumb buggers!"

"Get your arses up here, now!" Yimt shouted at them, brandishing his shatterbow and waving them forward. The rest of the patrol, including N'bhat, was grouped around the dwarf another thirty yards up the path.

Alwyn took his hand off the trigger and reached down to grab Quppy's cage. Leaves were falling so thickly that it was getting difficult to see what the rakkes were doing. He stopped halfway, his hand hovering just above the cage. From the corner of his eye he caught a movement. He looked up. Something dark and fast slipped behind a tree.

It wasn't a rakke.

"Hurry up, Alwyn, we've got to go!" Alik said, tugging at his arm as the others began walking quickly up the path.
"Hurry—" There was a swish and thunk and then silence.

Alwyn looked up in alarm. Alik stared at him, his eyes wide open in surprise. A thin, black arrow jutted from his neck. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times and then he was falling. Alwyn reached out to grab him as more arrows sliced through the air. Buuko screamed. A musket fired, and then another. Something flew by Alwyn's face. He stumbled and fell over Quppy's cage, shattering the wood as the sreex howled and flapped its wings. Alik's body fell on top of him, momentarily pinning him to the ground.

More screams, the sound of running feet, leaves falling everywhere, and only the occasional musket firing. Alwyn pushed furiously to lift Alik's body out of the way and get to his musket. He saw another soldier fall, his legs twitching as he lay on the ground, a black arrow protruding from his back, but he couldn't tell who it was.

He finally lifted Alik out of the way and was reaching for his musket when a rakke slammed it down with a large wooden club, smashing his weapon to pieces. Alwyn yelled and rolled the other way as the club came down again where he had just been. He got up to his hands and knees, scrambling up the path toward the sound of shouting. If he could just make it to Yimt he'd be all right. He saw Buuko's body and musket and lunged for the weapon, swinging around and pointing it at the rakke lumbering toward him. He squeezed the trigger and prayed that it was loaded.

The musket bucked in his hands and the rakke went down without a sound, the club tumbling from its grasp.

Two more rakkes loomed out of the forest, cutting off his route to Yimt and the rest of the patrol. They seemed to sense that the musket was unloaded and moved toward him, their white eyes bulging.

At that moment Kritton appeared, a musket in one hand and a blade in the other.

"Shoot them!" Alwyn shouted, pointing at the rakkes.

The creatures paused and turned. Kritton stood still, looking back at Alwyn. One of the rakkes made to move toward the elf and Kritton simply turned and ran.

Mind-numbing fear turned to rage in an instant. "You coward!" Alwyn screamed, startling the rakkes just a few yards away. The rakkes roared and turned back to Alwyn. It was only after Kritton had vanished that Alwyn realized the blade in his hand had been a drukar.

Yimt. It couldn't have hurt more if he'd been shot.

Nothing mattered anymore. Alwyn rose to his feet, screaming and lunging at the nearest rakke, driving the bayonet deep into its chest. The creature collapsed, tearing the musket from his hands as it died. Alwyn looked at his bare hands. He was left facing a rakke with nothing but absolute anguish. With no reason to care, he jumped forward, placed a foot on the dying rakke's chest, grabbed hold of his musket and heaved. It came free with a terrible scraping sound of metal on bone. He pointed it at the second rakke and saw that the bayonet was twisted. With no time to reload, he spun the musket around and grabbed it by the muzzle to swing like a club.

The second rakke paused and turned to look over its shoulder. Alwyn followed its gaze, expecting to see a gloating Kritton.

An elf stood in the space between two trees. Its face was gray and creased like wind-scoured rock. At first, Alwyn thought it was missing its left ear tip, but then he saw that it was there—just pitch black, like the two wet black eyes that stared unblinking at him, drawing the very warmth from his body.

Alwyn shuddered when he realized it had no eyelids. The orbs were forever open, forever seeing.

Its every feature was twisted, as if a giant's hands had pulled it apart and then reassembled the tattered shreds. It wore an overlapping garment of blackened leaves and oily fur held in place by thin, steel-colored vines wrapped tight around its limbs. Bony hands with fingers like black spider legs held a great curving longbow that looked impossibly to be made of iron.

The elf drew back the bow, its eyes never straying from Alwyn's. A noise like steel on slate pierced the forest as the bow was drawn to its limit, a thin, black arrow notched in place. It turned its head slightly and sighted down the shaft of the arrow.

Alwyn lurched forward. There was a metallic
twang
, the rush of torn air, and the shattering impact of the arrow hitting the stock of the musket. The musket flew from Alwyn's numb hands as something bitterly cold jabbed him in the chest. He stumbled and fell to his knees. Alwyn reached up with one hand and grabbed the section of arrow that now protruded from his body. It was like trying to hold fire. He began shivering violently. His hand fell away, a strip of skin tearing off as it did so, but he could no longer feel pain.

The rakke sensed its moment and rushed forward, knocking Alwyn to his back. The forest canopy flickered and swayed. Leaves tumbled down like snowflakes, revealing one side then the other; light—dark, light—dark.

The rakke stood above him and raised its club over its head. Alwyn tried to get to his feet, but his strength was gone. He was so cold.

The rakke lifted its head and screamed into the air. It was a hideous, triumphant sound. It lowered its head and the club began to fall when something came in from the side of Alwyn's vision.

The rakke fell apart, cloven in two. A shadow stood over it, a long sword held easily in its hands. A cloak of midnight black shrouded it so completely that Alwyn had a difficult time keeping it in focus, but he knew his savior all the same.

"Thanks, Meri," Alwyn murmured, closing his eyes and letting the cold take him.

K
onowa lurched in the saddle from a blow he couldn't see. He grabbed his chest and his hand closed around the leather pouch.

"Something's happened."

The Prince turned slightly and nudged his horse around a large mud puddle, an act of little value, as mud lay everywhere. The river had already receded to its preflood level, but the ground around it was a sopping mess, and the rain still fell, although not as hard as before.
"The open rebellion of northern Elfkyna would certainly qualify, yes, but it's not exactly news, is it, as Rallie's
editor sent her the message hours ago?"

"Yes, sir, of course. I was just taking it all in," he said, silently cursing himself for being such a fool. A chill crept over his body despite the warm rain. He looked back over his shoulder at the regiment snaked out behind them and shook his head.
"We'll need to get to Luuguth Jor as quickly as possible, but this mud is going
to slow us down."

"Then fix it," the Prince said.

"Fix it, sir? I didn't bring any paving stones with
me."

The Prince frowned and stood in his stirrups, pulling a highly polished brass telescope from a leather holder strapped to his saddle. The royal cipher was emblazoned on the main tube in skillfully inlaid onyx and ivory and tiny rubies. He opened it to its full length and held it up to his eye like a captain at sea. Perhaps the river beside them was giving him delusions of nautical grandeur.

"The witch turned night into day—surely she can do something about this mud. And tell her to be quick about it. We are losing valuable time." He sat back down, sending a spray of water from his saddle.

Konowa started to say Visyna would never agree to it, even if she was so inclined, as it seemed an impossible thing, but held his tongue. She
had
turned night into day, and his father had once slowed a waterfall long enough to allow an elf of the Long Watch to drag an uprooted sapling to safety before it plummeted over the edge.

"Today, Major," the prince snapped. "Nothing is more
important than securing the Star."

"As is keeping it out of the Shadow Monarch's hands and putting down the rebellion," Konowa added.

The Prince waved the thought away like an annoying fly.
"Yes, of course. Deprived of the Star, the rebellion will founder and die, and the Shadow Monarch will have lost Her chance." He suddenly slapped his thigh and sat up straighter in the saddle.
"And I will have saved Elfkyna in the bargain. This is perfect. Major, we must
make all possible haste."

"Yes, sir," Konowa said, touching his heels to Zwindarra's flanks and setting out at a trot back along the column in search of Visyna.

No one called out to him as he rode by. It would have been simple to believe that it was the rain and exhaustion that kept their heads down, but he knew news of the rebellion had spread among them like wildfire. The pretense that they were going to relieve a garrison manning a tiny mud fort in the middle of nowhere—the regiment led by the very Prince of the realm—was too much for even the dimmest of them to believe. And now that they knew a full-scale rebellion was in the offing, they also knew that their prospect of ever seeing home and hearth again had fallen through the ground, along with their morale. Whether the Prince liked it or not, the troops would have to be told the truth, at least most of it.

He spotted Jir first, loping alongside Rallie's wagon. The bengar was covered from head to paw in mud, but didn't seem the least bit concerned by it, nor by the numerous bushes and plants that went unmarked as he passed by. The reason perched on top of the canvas-covered wagon dozing in the rain.

Wobbly appeared to be sleeping it off in the most precarious of positions, teetering forward as if he was about to pitch over and then righting himself with the next sway of the wagon. Jir mirrored each movement, no doubt hoping for an easy lunch. Konowa hoped the pelican had better balance sober than drunk. He'd watched the bird's graceless landing and immediately sympathized with it. He knew what it was like to be a moose among deer.

He whistled at Jir, who turned his head for a moment, then went back to watching the pelican.
Be that way
, Konowa thought, slowing Zwindarra to a trot as he came up to the wagon. Visyna sat beside Rallie on the front bench, the two involved in yet another conversation. He reined in Zwindarra and had him walk alongside, deliberately choosing Rallie's side of the wagon. The horse didn't seem the least bit disturbed by the brindos this time, even reaching out his muzzle to sniff at the closest brindo, which flapped its ears in response.

"And what brings you back our way, Major?" Rallie asked. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Visyna, wrapped in a green cloak with the hood pulled up over her head, did not bother to look at him.

Women.

"In light of your recent news, the Prince thinks we need to make all haste to Luuguth Jor. For once, I am in complete agreement with him." He waited, but Visyna continued to look straight ahead.
"The Prince has asked, and I know it sounds silly, but he has asked if Miss
Tekoy might use her powers to assist the regiment in making better time."

Visyna finally turned to look at him, pulling down the hood of her cloak. He'd expected anger and was surprised to see a thoughtful expression on her face.

"What did he have in mind?"

Konowa looked at Rallie, who looked back at him with a knowing smile.
"His Highness has asked if it would be possible to dry the ground underfoot so that we might increase our pace. You know, firm it up a bit so the slogging isn't
so tough."

"All right," Visyna said.

Konowa had already prepared a comeback and was left momentarily speechless. She had an uncanny ability to catch him off guard. He didn't know why, but he found it more attractive than her looks, as stunning as they were.
"I'm sorry?"

"I said I'll do it," she said, calmly crossing her arms and staring at him.
"For once, we are all in agreement. The sooner we arrive at Luuguth Jor, the better. However," she said, smiling at him,
"I will need assistance."

"Absolutely," Konowa said, smiling broadly.
Now why couldn't the two of us get along like this all the time
? he wondered, ignoring the multiple reasons that suddenly sprang to mind.
"Just tell me what you need and you will have it."

"You."

"Now wait just one min—"

"Do you want to get to Luuguth Jor quickly or not?" Visyna asked, making as if to pull the hood of her cloak back up.

"All right, all right, I'll help, but I'm not doing
anything…strange."

"This is not a carnival trick. Rallie, please stop the wagon," Visyna said.

Konowa reined in Zwindarra, who took the opportunity to sniff the brindo a little more thoroughly.

While the brindo and horse were getting acquainted, Visyna hopped down from the wagon and stood in the mud. The last platoon of soldiers marched by, eyeing them curiously, but again, none called out. A pall had settled over the entire regiment and everyone feared to speak loudly. In moments, they were alone as the soldiers struggled through the mud ahead of them.

"So what do you need me to do exactly?" Konowa asked, trying to be helpful.

Visyna took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes.
"Hold me."

Konowa's heart sped up. "Hold you?"

"Hold me."

"You want me to hold you?"

"You were in the forest a very long time, weren't you?" Rallie asked, her smile as wicked as a newly sharpened blade.

Visyna stamped her foot. "We are losing time. Now get
off that horse and get over here and hold me."

Konowa kicked his feet out of the stirrups and jumped off Zwindarra, tossing the reins up to Rallie, who tied them off to the wagon. He walked over to Visyna, still waiting for the catch.

"Stand behind me, and hold me around the middle. Whatever you do, don't
let go."

Konowa stopped just in front of her. "Look, I know we haven't—"

Visyna grabbed him by the hand and pulled him around behind her.
"What I need at the moment is your strength. What the Prince asks will require
more skeins than I can weave on my own. Now, hold me, and do not let go."

Konowa looked up at Rallie, who was clearly enjoying this. He shrugged and did as Visyna asked, wrapping his arms around her. Her hair danced in front of his mouth. With each breath he let out the temptation to smell it threatened to overwhelm the real reason he held her in his arms.

"No, not like this. I can feel it even now. You must remove it," Visyna said, pulling away from his grasp.
"I cannot do this with that thing touching me."

"Look, if this is all some kind of elaborate game to get me to get rid of it you can just forget it," he said. His hand reached instinctively for the pouch.

Visyna raised her hands. "I give you my word you can have it back when we're
done. Give it to Rallie if you like, but you must remove it if this is to work."

Konowa looked at Rallie. "This is no joke. I have
sworn to protect this regiment and I will."

Rallie looked past Konowa to the regiment slowly marching ahead of them.
"Then you had best make up your mind—time is fleeting."

He reached into his jacket and pulled out the pouch, throwing it to Rallie before he changed his mind. Rallie caught it deftly and set it down on the bench beside her. Konowa took a breath and tried to detect if he felt any different. Nothing. He wasn't sure if he was relieved by that or not.

"Now," Visyna said, pulling his arms back around her,
"hold on and do not let go. You will feel…things, but do not be alarmed."

She brought her hands in front of her face and immediately began tracing patterns in the air in front of her.

It was mesmerizing. Her fingers moved with supple grace, like swans weaving their necks together in perfect rhythm. The air around them changed, or maybe it was a sound on the air. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck vibrated, and Konowa heard the natural world. He closed his eyes and slowly, tentatively, let his senses flow outward.

It was a revelation like none he had experienced before. For the first time in his life there was order in the chaos. Everything, all life, made sense. Each living thing had a distinct voice, and each formed part of an infinite web of threads, each unique and yet wholly connected to each other.

"Oh, my."

Konowa opened his eyes at Rallie's surprise. Intricate filigrees of light danced in front of Visyna, her fingers tracing ever-finer skeins of glowing thread. The air shimmered around them and Konowa recognized what he had seen back at the edge of the forest when Lorian had found them. Given a hundred years, the best painters in the world could not hope to duplicate the beauty of what he saw, what he felt. It was as if life was a river, flowing through her, through him, both new and very old.

All too soon, Visyna slowed her hands and the light faded away, and with it, the sense of order and reason to the world around him.

She finally lowered her hands and stood panting in his arms. He realized his breathing was in time with hers.

"You can let go now," she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

He didn't want to. He wanted that feeling back. "I—"

A bugle sounded from up ahead and Konowa reluctantly released her. Visyna climbed back up into the wagon as chaos reigned again around Konowa and he closed his mind to the world. Rallie tossed him the pouch, which he stuffed back under his jacket. The last vestiges of the natural order burned away as the acorn rested against his chest.

"Our path will be quicker now," Visyna said, her voice still sounding a little breathless.

"And filled with more danger, I'm afraid," Rallie said, stepping down from the wagon and walking back behind it.

Konowa exchanged glances with Visyna, then held out his hand to help her down. She chose to ignore it, stepping down on her own, and the two of them walked back to see what Rallie was doing.

"Grab hold of this, will you?" Rallie said as Konowa came around the corner. He reached out and took the edge of the canvas tarp and held it high as she directed. Visyna was directed to hold the other side, and Rallie hopped up into the back of the wagon, crawling in between the row of cages. Jir padded around to watch. There was the sound of a lock being opened, and then a rumbling noise that shook the entire wagon.

Jir was off like a shot. There was the slithering of reins being pulled through and then the sound of hooves disappearing and Konowa knew Zwindarra had bolted as well. A moment later, Rallie backed out of the wagon brushing herself off.
"Give a good pull now; Dandy's ready."

Konowa looked over at Visyna, who shrugged her shoulders. They began pulling. The canvas tarp slid off, much to the annoyance of the pelican, who started flapping his wings and squawking as he was pulled along with it. Rallie lifted the hem of her cloak and removed a large metal flask strapped to one thigh. When the canvas finally came off, Wobbly flapped his way down to sit on the back board of the wagon with his bill open wide. Rallie unstoppered the flask and upended its contents into Wobbly's mouth.

As soon as the flask was empty Rallie grabbed the pelican by the middle, whispered something to him, and heaved him bodily into the air.

"Rallie!" Visyna cried, putting a hand to her mouth in surprise.

Konowa half-expected the bird to come tumbling right back down, but with agonizing slowness Wobbly flapped his wings and started to fly. He appeared confused at first, making one complete circle of the wagon, then he veered to the west, although he still meandered through all points on the compass.

"Care to tell us what this is all about?" he asked, watching the pelican fly east, then a bit to the north, before doubling back and heading south. Wherever he was going, he was taking the scenic route.

Rallie's answer was cut off by a shriek from inside the wagon, followed by the appearance of an enormous beaked head covered in fine, ash-gray feathers. The beak, all black save for a tiny silver tip, was more than a foot long and curved like a drukar. It turned its head and stared at them with a pair of brilliant amber eyes. They showed not the slightest inclination toward mercy. A cold warning surged through Konowa's body, but already the threat was gone, as the bird's entire body emerged from the wagon. It shot straight into the sky, a gray and black streak propelled by two silver-colored, sinewy legs. The wagon shuddered and the wind from the bird's ascent blew dirt and straw into their faces. Twenty feet in the air, it opened its wings and they easily spanned the length of the wagon. It beat them once, twice, and was already another fifty feet in the air and angling toward Wobbly. For his part, the pelican squawked and started flapping his wings for all he was worth, leaving a trail of white feathers floating in the wind as he headed due west at a surprising rate of speed.