A Darkness Forged in Fire (27 page)

"He'll never make it!" Visyna said, her fingers already starting to weave a design in front of her.

"Have a little faith, my dear," Rallie said, walking over and placing the sleeve of her cloak over Visyna's hands. There was a strange vibration—it suddenly felt as if there wasn't enough air to breathe. The feeling lasted only a moment and then Rallie was sliding her cloak off Visyna's hands and patting her on the arm.
"Dandy would never hurt Wobbly; I just like to keep the old sot honest and put a bit of fire under his tail feathers once in a while. Besides, those two have worked together before. They know what they're
doing."

"Care to tell us?" Konowa asked, watching a still-surprised Visyna stare at her hands.

Rallie motioned for him to start putting the canvas cover back on the wagon.
"You remember the dream you had about Martimis?" she asked, lifting up an edge of the canvas and handing it to Visyna, who still seemed a little stunned.
"It wasn't a dream, not entirely. Someone has been intercepting my messages, and
I have an idea who."

"What will those two do about it?"

Rallie pulled a cigar out of her cloak and flicked a flint against a steel bolt head, drawing the sparks into the end of the cigar with a skill that Konowa suspected was more than natural. She took a deep drag and smiled as she exhaled a thick cloud of blue smoke.

"They'll shine a little light on the subject," she said, cackling with mirth and refusing to explain any more.

H
e was drowning. Alwyn struggled to hold his breath, feebly trying to claw his way to the surface. There was a wavering light far above him, while around him cold, black water squeezed in on all sides. It was freezing, and the harder he tried, the deeper he sank. All his energy was being drawn out of his body and he felt progressively lighter and more insubstantial with each stroke. The light started to fade, and he knew he wasn't going to make it. He opened his mouth to let the water in and took a breath. Warm air rushed into his lungs.

"Jilk norĂŠ grina hee dfir,"
a woman's voice said.

Alwyn opened his eyes. At first, he thought he was looking at a pair of polished amber jewels set in the hollow of a tree. A moment later, he saw that they were in fact eyes, and that they belonged to the face of an elf. He brought a hand up, his fingers smearing his spectacles. Well, they were in place. He blinked and looked again. A woman—an elf woman—knelt over the top of him, peering down with all the interest that the major's bengar had eyed him with not that long ago. Her skin was tanned, like the major's, and her black hair was drawn tightly into a braid that hung down over one shoulder of a garment of green and brown. The cloth, if that's what it was, appeared to change even as he watched it, so that leaves and branches danced across her body as she shifted closer to him. It hurt his head to try to keep all of her in focus, so he concentrated on her face.

That's when the horror of the black elf rushed back to him and he started to scream. The woman reached out and placed a warm hand on his lips.

"You are safe, for the
moment. The others fled our presence, heading eastward."

Alwyn took in a few more breaths and allowed himself to relax, a little. This elf was nothing like the creature that had shot him. Unlike the major and Kritton, though, she had both her ear tips. It was then that he realized who, and what, she was.

"You're an elf of the Long Watch." It was like walking straight into a faery tale.

"
I am
." The woman said something again in elvish, her voice carrying through the air like a leaf floating on a stream.

"What?" It was dark, but somewhere above him a cool light cast its glow through the canopy of the forest. It was the moon. Strange, he thought, that he could see it this well from the forest floor. No sooner had he thought it than the earth beneath him swayed. His stomach lurched with the realization that he wasn't on the ground at all, but high up in the crook of a large branch of a wahatti tree. He carefully turned his head to the side and looked down. The ground was fifty feet below.

He closed his eyes and wondered if he was dreaming. He opened them again and the elf was still there, still looking at him intently. He noticed a leafy section of the tree was watching him, and then gaped when the leaves moved, revealing another elf. He blinked. This elf, a male, he thought, was festooned with leaves and other foliage. Through the leaves, Alwyn could just make out dark-brown bark, which he assumed served as armor, covering the elf's forearms and chest. What Alwyn had taken for branches turned out to be a scabbarded sword and a long, curving bow held in his hands. Without the moonlight, he never would have seen him, and even then it was only because the elf moved that he knew he was there at all.

"I told the others that the
morhar
lives."

"
Morhar
?" Alwyn asked, turning away from the second elf. His head was still foggy. Simple questions seemed best at the moment.

"Tree killer," she said calmly.

"But I—" He was going to say he had never done any such thing when he noticed again the bow carried by the elf. The image of the arrow sticking out of Alik's throat was still vivid in his mind, as was the pain from the one that had pierced his chest. He instinctively reached for the wound. His fingers touched cool, wet leaves wrapping his entire left shoulder and chest. The physical pain was excruciating, the emotional even worse.
"What happened to my friends?"

"Some will walk among the trees no more. We buried them in a clearing nearby. The arrows that took their lives were
ĂŚri tokma
, fire-forged, as was the one that pierced you. You were fortunate that we were able to remove it before it could harm you further." She pointed to a spot beside Alwyn. Ugly black slivers of an arrow shaft lay on a broad leaf. It was fletched with razor-edged leaves the color of steel and a black ichor oozed from the broken pieces, staining the green leaf. Sharp, angular runes covered the pieces of the shaft, and though he couldn't read them, he felt their menace.

"Where is the rest of my patrol?"

The female leaned forward and helped Alwyn into a sitting position. Searing pain raced through his chest. He gasped and would have toppled off the branch if the elf hadn't held on. When the pain subsided, she offered him some water from a hollowed-out gourd. She kept a hand resting on his shoulder.

"The others are injured, and are being cared for."

Alwyn pushed thoughts of Yimt and the others out of his mind before they consumed him. His skin tingled. Insects chittered all around him, and he was surprised at how loud and clear they sounded.

The male elf suddenly moved, walking across the branch as if strolling down a boulevard. His gait reminded Alwyn of Jir—slow, graceful, and deadly. Alwyn put his hands down at his sides to grab hold of the branch and felt a nest of leaves and soft moss beneath him. He gently rocked from side to side and felt a bit more secure at the sturdiness of his perch. The elf halted beside him and bent to look at him.

Alwyn was drawn to his face, aware he was staring and unable to look away. Unlike the naturally tanned skin of the woman, this one's skin was completely tattooed with a leaf pattern. He turned his head from side to side, studying Alwyn with immense curiosity. Two more eyes suddenly appeared on the elf's shoulder, dark and glimmering, and Alwyn found himself being examined by a small, dark brown, furry creature.

"Is that a squirrel?" he asked, pointing at the animal that perched on its haunches by the elf's left ear, its tiny black nose twitching long, golden whiskers. Two tiny ears swiveled on top of its head as it made a soft, purring sound. Suddenly, the twitching stopped and the animal launched itself from its perch into the air, missing Alwyn's head by inches. It spread its legs wide and previously hidden folds of fur opened up and it glided to the next tree, twenty yards away. A moment later, it was back, landing gracefully on the elf's shoulder. Between its teeth was a still-wriggling snake a foot long. It devoured the snake quickly, never taking its eyes off Alwyn. When it was done, it started purring again.

"Of a kind," the woman replied. She switched to elvish and spoke to the male. He said something back in a language that was not elvish—it sounded like wind rustling through the trees, but the woman nodded as if she understood. The male then turned and simply vanished into the branches around them. The last Alwyn saw of him was a small pair of dark eyes twinkling at him from between the leaves with far more intelligence than any pair of squirrel eyes should have.

"Who was the elf?" he asked.

She paused before speaking, a pained look crossing her face.
"He was Tyul Mountain Spring. He is now
dĂŻova gruss
,
one of the lost ones."

Alwyn wanted to ask what that meant, but sensed now was not the time.
"You saved our lives," he said. He'd once overheard the major talking, well, yelling really, with the witch. The elves of the Long Watch cared little for humans. He could imagine what they thought about soldiers of the Empire.

"It was not our intent," the elf replied. "We hunted other prey, leaving our homeland of the Great Forest to cross the vast waters to track them here. We did not expect to find you when we found them. Even then you would have been left to the natural order, but most curiously, Her creatures attacked you though you wear the cloth of the
ĂŚri tokma
,
and we would know more."

It was not a reassuring answer, and it was rude to look a gift dragon in the mouth, especially when it might breathe fire on you if you did. Curiosity got the better of him.

"What was that thing that shot me?"

The elf's amber eyes flashed, and Alwyn feared he had crossed a line. After a moment, she responded.
"It, and the others you did not see, are Her servants. They are no more elves
than you."

"Actually," Alwyn said, "our regiment is called the Iron Elves, but I'm not an elf," he hastened to add.

The elf hissed. She drew forth a gleaming, wooden dagger and made a sign of warding.
"Then you serve the Shadow Monarch. We were wrong to succor you."

Alwyn felt the life force in the blade, and for a moment thought he heard another voice.
"What? No. We've got nothing to do with the Shadow Monarch! We're trying to stop Her from getting the Star. We're not evil, honest," he said, holding up his hands.

"You know of the Star?" she asked, the dagger still held in her hand.

"I haven't seen it, if that's what you're asking, but we've all heard about it. I think that's the real reason we're
going to Luuguth Jor."

The dagger vanished, and with it the strange feeling that there had been more than just the two of them there. The elf sat down beside him, one hand still on his shoulder. Alwyn lowered his hands and let out his breath.

"What is your name?"

"Private Alwyn Renwar."

The elf shook her head. "What does your name mean?"

"Mean? It's just my name, it doesn't mean anything," he said, his voice rising a little.
"What's yours?"

"Irkila Moon Singer," she said, still staring at him
with those deep, brown eyes, "
ryk faurrĂŠ
of Tall Wind. Why do you live as you do, Private Alwyn Renwar? Why do you
destroy that which lives so that you instead may live a life with no meaning?"

That wasn't fair. "Hey, I said my name has no meaning, not my life. And besides, my name does have a meaning, it was my grandfather's."

Irkila sat up straight. "You rob your ancestor of his
name? How will he be known in the spirit world?"

"I asked you to watch over him, Irkila, not argue with him," a voice said from above. An elf landed lightly beside Irkila without a sound. She was older, her black hair streaked with gray, her skin lined with fine wrinkles that only added to her look of wisdom and beauty. Like Irkila, she was dressed in a fashion that caused her to blend with the tree so that it was difficult to tell where the tree ended and she began.

"I want to understand, Chayii Red Owl, but he makes no
sense. He and his companions wear the cloth of the tainted ones, yet are hunted
by creatures of Her making. They search for the Eastern Star, yet do not appear
to believe in it. They follow orders they do not understand."

Chayii smiled. "Their ways are not ours. Go aid the
children of this home. Many were wounded during the battle, their trunks scarred
by metal, their leaves burned by the black frost. I would talk with Alwyn of the
Empire."

Irkila nodded and took her hand from his shoulder. The sounds of the forest quieted again, and he shook his head. He watched her walk back toward the trunk of the tree and then simply vanish. It was impressive magic.

"Not magic," Chayii said, "but understanding. Many
things are yet shrouded in this, and I seek your light. Will you guide me?"

He started, then nodded, wishing he could go back to a time when the only elf he'd known had cobbled shoes for a living and had shown no interest in reading his mind.

"Then tell me,
Iron Elf
,
who is the one you call Meri?"

A
lwyn's heart thudded in his chest and for the second time in as many minutes he thought he might tumble from the branch.

"You saw him?"

Chayii closed her eyes and slowly exhaled. When she opened them again her brown eyes stared at him with bright intensity.
"I sensed him, as I sense all disturbances in the natural order. He lingers in
this world, bound here by something that should not be."

Meri, the elf sensed Meri. That meant he wasn't crazy.
"He died a few days ago. We buried him out on the plain of vines, but I've seen
him a few times since. I think, well, I think he might be protecting me."

She pursed her lips. "Necromancy poisons the natural
order. This is Her doing."

Alwyn didn't like the sound of this one bit. "Look, Miss Red Owl, I don't know what's going on, but I know Meri was a good man in life, and he seems to be that way in death, too. I guess that doesn't make a lot of sense, but then I'm sitting in a tree with elves talking about magic, ghosts, and the natural order, which, to be honest, I never even knew there was one. I wish I could explain it, but I really don't
know how."

Chayii smiled at him, and it didn't make him afraid. Before she could respond, a bird cry rang through the trees. It was immediately answered by others. Chayii listened intently, cocking her head to one side and closing her eyes. After a few moments, she opened them again and lifted her face to the moon, trilling a series of notes that Alwyn would have sworn were made by a bird were he not watching her do it. More bird call answered her and then the forest was silent. She turned back to him and the smile was gone.

"It is time for answers," she said, holding a hand above her head. She began to chant and a thick vine uncoiled itself from a branch above and lay in her open hand. Her chanting changed and the end of the vine slithered across her hand and toward Alwyn. He leaned back, but it was already across his legs and moving around his body like a constrictor. In seconds he was securely bound, though not so tightly that it hurt.

Chayii moved beside him and grabbed the leaf on which the arrow rested, careful not to touch the arrow itself. She took hold of the vine with her other hand and her chanting changed again. The branch they were on suddenly bent down, and they were sliding off it into oblivion.

Before he could scream, a lower branch reached up and they landed softly among its leaves, the vine acting as a safety line. The process was continued several more times as they slowly progressed toward the forest floor. When they were still twenty feet off the ground and no branches were left, the vine took their weight and lowered them the rest of the way. No sooner had his feet touched the ground than the vine uncoiled itself and withdrew back into the branches above. Chayii took hold of his arm on his right side and steadied him. The murmur of voices he had sensed before started up again.

"That was…that was amazing," he said, looking back up.

Chayii looked up at the tree and sang a short song. The tree swayed in response and then went still. Alwyn could have sworn he heard, or felt, the tree say something.

"No, Alwyn of the Empire, that was life. Come."

She led him a short distance through the forest to a small clearing where his comrades were buried. The moon shone brighter here and he could see clearly all around him. Muskets, Yimt's shatterbow, the rest of their kits, and several black arrows lay piled on a large flat rock beside three mounds of frost-burnt leaves. There were no markers, no sign that the soldiers lying there now had lived at all.

Irkila suddenly appeared and took the leaf-wrapped arrow from Chayii, placing it on the rock with the other arrows. Other elves emerged from the forest. Several were supporting or leading members of Three Section. Alwyn staggered and Chayii motioned for another elf to come and help her.

"Never mind, ma'am, I'll take care of that sack of bones," Yimt said, detaching himself from the elf who supported him to limp over and offer his shoulder to Alwyn. Leaf-and-moss bandages secured with thin vines covered the left side of his head and his right forearm. Judging by the way he limped, Alwyn figured his right thigh must be bandaged, too. More shocking than seeing the dwarf wounded, however, was seeing him alive. He squeezed Yimt's shoulder and fought back tears.

"I saw Kritton with your drukar."

Yimt's upper lip curled. "I lost sight of that bastard after two of those creatures attacked me. If we're
lucky, one of them caught up and made a nice meal out of him."

Before he could ask for an explanation, the survivors of Three Section were all brought together. Teeter now limped on both legs. Scolly's left arm was in a sling ingeniously made of a broad leaf, while Inkermon looked completely untouched. Seeing the farmer unwounded angered Alwyn, and Inkermon seemed to sense it, for he refused to look him in the eye. He looked back to the mounds where Alik, Buuko, and little N'bhat lay buried, and something cold gripped his heart.

Without any warning, three elves materialized out of the forest. Their raiment of leaves was similar to that of the elf Alwyn had seen in the tree, but he couldn't tell if one of them was him. The three elves stopped short of the mounds, notching arrows they drew from quivers hidden somewhere among the leaves that obscured their forms. They drew back the strings on their longbows as one and shot an arrow into each mound. Several more elves had arrows at the ready.

"What are you doing?" Alwyn cried, looking at Chayii. When she gave no indication of answering, he turned to Yimt.
"Stop them." The dwarf tugged on his beard and said nothing.

The clearing shuddered, as if a stone had been dropped into still water.

A sensation that Alwyn could only describe as cold heat washed over him. Flames of frost began to crawl along the leaves of two of the three mounds, burning them to ash. Chayii stepped forward and began to chant again, her voice louder than before. A wind whipped up from nowhere and began to beat back at the unnatural fire. The air in the clearing chilled and Chayii's breath misted with each word. Black-tinged tongues of icy fire stabbed deeper into the mounds, consuming everything. Chayii's voice faltered, but immediately the other elves added their voices to hers. They moved closer to the whirling, burning leaves, reaching out their hands and grabbing hold of one another. Alwyn and the others were drawn into the circle with them. As soon as his hand touched Chayii's, his mouth opened and he began to speak, but they were not his words: