A Darkness Forged in Fire (34 page)

Inja had been born in the palace stables. The warm, heavy smells of the large animals had filled her lungs with her very first breath. By the time she was four, she could ride any horse in the stables, even the big stallions. At seven it was clear that she had the
limoo sy
about her, the ability to know things that had not yet come to pass…as it related to horses. Now at fifteen, Inja could predict within the minute when a mare would foal and which horse was going to develop colic and die months before it happened, giving the stable master ample time to sell the beast at full price to an unsuspecting buyer. She knew the fate of every horse in the stable, including the fastest of them all, Hizurantha.

Inja walked slowly toward the stall of the three-year-old gray gelding, the six-inch blade in her hand growing heavier with each step.

She knew that what she was about to do was a merciful thing. No creature should have to endure what she had forseen for Hizu. It was a fate truly worse than death.

Hizu smelled her coming and whinnied with anticipation, knowing she always brought him a chunk of keela fruit. Inja looked down at her hand and saw only the cold glint of steel. Could she really do this thing? What if she was wrong, what if her vision had been a mistake? The nightmare flashed repeatedly through her mind, as sharp as the knife in her hand.

There was no mistake. Hizu would suffer terribly; she had no choice.

Inja arrived at Hizu's stall and reached out her left hand and pulled back the wooden slide that held the stall door in place. Slowly, quietly, she eased the smooth, worn slat back until it made that familiar thunk sound as it hit its wooden stop. Hizu tossed his mane and snorted and stamped his front hooves.

"I am sorry, Hizu," Inja said, stepping into the stall and reaching up to grab Hizu's halter. The horse obediently brought its head down and sniffed her, looking for the keela fruit. Inja refused to look him in the eye, searching instead for the great vein at the side of his neck.
"You deserved better."

The knife in her hand grew colder, and the horror of what she was about to do made her shiver. Hizu sensed something was wrong, jerking his head back up, his breath coming fast, its mist clouding the cold air of the stable. Inja looked at the mist in surprise, and then down at her hand. Frost sparkled along the blade.

"What—?" she asked aloud, turning as a new presence entered the stall behind her. Something incredibly cold grabbed her by the throat and lifted her into the air. The knife fell from her hand as she reached up to pry away the icy grip. Already the cold was eating into her, blurring her vision as it bled the strength from her limbs. She heard the sound of Hizu's screams from a growing distance, and then she was flying, the cold vise around her neck letting go. Her head hit the stone cobbles of the hallway in front of the stall, but she remained conscious for a moment more, long enough to hear Hizu's hooves clatter across the stone and fade into the distance.

The Viceroy of Elfkyna was riding to Luuguth Jor.

In the thousands of years that the Baynama River had curled through eastern Elfkyna, long before the land had been named, it had forever run brown with the silt washed into it from the heavy rains that fell throughout the year.

Until today.

Konowa bent and pulled a wounded soldier away from the bank and paused. The crimson water in front of him frothed with the frenzied feeding of fish drawn to the surface.

"Major! Get down!"

Konowa threw himself flat against the grass as the sound of dozens of ice picks stabbing a piece of tin crackled above his head. The musket volley thrashed the forward line of elfkynan just entering the river thirty yards away, flailing their exposed flesh, exposing briefly the brilliance of white bone beneath. Elfkynan screamed. More slipped under the water, trampled underfoot by those not yet hit, their cries gurgling into abrupt silence as water filled their lungs and they vanished from sight.

An arrow pricked the ground inches from his head, the shaft quivering as if furious it had not found flesh. More arrows whistled past, answered by yet more musket fire, the smoke of the volley rolling over Konowa and temporarily blocking his view of the river. Over it all, the chants of
"Sillra! Sillra!" ebbed and flowed like a coming tide, each wave climbing higher and higher onto the beach.

"I've got him, sir," Private Hrem Vulhber said, running through the smoke to grab the wounded soldier from Konowa and heave him over his shoulder.
"You shouldn't be out in front of the line like this. You're not immortal."

Konowa allowed Hrem to drag him back over the wall of mud bricks, caring little if an elfkynan arrow hit him in the back as he halted on the edge, looking back down at the river.

"Maybe I am. Maybe we all are," he said, recognizing the feeling of utter futility. The elfkynan weren't going to stop. They surged forward in waves with no concern for their lives. The few prisoners the Iron Elves had taken that day wailed and begged to be killed. It wasn't until Konowa threatened to grant their wish by having Jir eat them, starting at their toes and working his way up, that one thought better of it.

"Paradise! Paradise forever! The Star has returned!"

"What paradise?" Konowa asked, motioning for Jir to take a few steps forward.

The elfkynan's eyes bulged. "Death does not matter. The Star has returned. All who perish in its service will be rewarded in the afterlife." Taking heart from his own words, the elfkynan ran into the open and stepped in front of one of the five-pounders just as it fired a canister shot.

Hrem reached up and pulled Konowa off the wall, dropping him behind it as several more arrows ricocheted off the mud bricks. He looked at Konowa for a moment, then nodded and moved back into the firing line a few feet away. Shouts of
"Sillra…Sillra" still echoed across the battle, but for the first time, the weight of voice had decreased, the screams growing in volume as yet more elfkynan went to their paradise.

Even the yelling and taunting by the Iron Elves as the elfkynan had first charged the river had subsided into grunts and curses, and more than a few prayers for the poor buggers to stop, to just please stop.

This wasn't battle—this was butchery.

Ramrods rattled in musket barrels, sergeants barked hoarse commands to
"look lively," "aim low," the gun carriages for the two five-pounders creaked and groaned as they shook under each blast, and through it all, the screams of the dying never stopped.

There was a boom from the fortress signaling the firing of the howitzer. Konowa looked up and saw the blur of the cannon ball arc overhead before it dipped and slammed into a group of elfkynan. For a moment, nothing happened, the cannon shell sitting half dug into the soft earth, its burning fuse hidden from view. The elfkynan laughed, and one stepped forward to place a foot on the shell when it exploded, tossing several of them into the air.

A private held on to Zwindarra's reins a few feet away, the horse remarkably calm amid all the chaos. It angered Konowa to needlessly risk the animal's life for no good reason. At least he'd been able to get Jir penned up in the fortress under Rallie's supervision. He'd miss that bengar more than a little if anything ever happened to it.

"They're absolutely mad!" Lorian said, riding up on one of the commandeered elfkynan horses. Halting beside Zwindarra, the horse—a dappled, shaggy-looking thing—looked like a large pony in comparison. Lorian dismounted, handing the reins to the private holding Zwindarra's, and walked up to peer over the wall by him.
"Little boys with toy soldiers make better battle plans than this."

Konowa stood up and looked over in time to see six elfkynan crawl up onto the western bank in front of their position. They rose to their feet yelling fiercely, their eyes bright with belief as they were unceremoniously cut down by another round of canister shot fired at a range of twenty yards, the smoke of the blast blotting them from sight. When the smoke drifted away all that remained was madly thrashing fins and scaly mouths gulping down chunks of red, raw flesh floating in the water.

"How's our ammunition holding out?" Konowa asked, forcing himself to look away as two more elfkynan crawled onto the bank, one trying to hold his innards in with one hand while waving a mioxja with the other. Two sharp musket cracks told Konowa their fate.

"We're down to twenty rounds a man. I've ordered some of the canister shot cut open and more cartridges to be made, but I doubt there are that many of the dumb bastards left that will need it," Lorian said, sliding down from the wall to rest with his back against it beside Konowa.

"Losses?" Konowa asked.

"Eight dead and another fifteen wounded. Prince Tykkin has made it a priority to examine every wound himself to ensure there's no malingering," Lorian said, motioning with his halberd toward the casualty collection area a hundred yards back of the firing line. From there, the wounded were transported by a muraphant-pulled wagon up to the fortress. Those deemed insufficiently injured were sent stumbling back down to the line. Mercifully, there were only a few seriously wounded so far.

Konowa nodded, grabbing a canteen off the ground and offering it to Lorian. The RSM took a long pull and held it out to Konowa, who grabbed it and finished it off, the bitter taste of gunpowder temporarily diluted.

"I think it's time we let them force the gap," Konowa said, pointing to the one open section in the ring of trees that surrounded their position. A large abatis made of cut-down trees spiked with sharpened sticks lay across the road. They were normal trees, as attempts to use some of the black trees had gone nowhere. No soldier would get close enough to the blood trees to swing an ax. As it was, the abatis proved useful in blocking the growing number of elfkynan who were trying to find a way through.
"We need to finish this now. Who knows what else is out there."

"Is that wise?" Lorian asked, cringing as a horse screamed in terror. Both Zwindarra and the elfkynan horse reacted, their ears pricking forward, the whites of their eyes showing. Lorian got up to look over the wall as the elfkynan cavalry made another futile charge. Konowa reluctantly followed suit, watching with sadness as hooves flashed through the red water, crushing skulls as the horses panicked and tried to run away. Unlike their riders, the animals had no illusions of immortality and paradise.

Konowa looked up at the sky and was surprised to see the sun already beginning to dip behind the fortress on the hill.
"We don't have a choice. We do it now or we'll be fighting in the dark, and that's something I'd
like to avoid."

Lorian finally turned away from the carnage and looked at Konowa. His eyes were rimmed with red, his face grime covered and pale.
"Are you sure this will work?"

Konowa felt a cold surge as the acorn against his chest reminded him of what real power was.
"One way to find out," he said, moving away from the wall and calling to the Color party. A small, fierce-looking sergeant followed by three large, equally fierce-looking corporals all brandishing halberds marched up with the regimental Color. Both the Queen's Color and that of the Prince were flying over the fortress.

"Sergeant Salia Aguom an' Color party reporting, sir!" the Color sergeant said. He saluted smartly, the flagstaff held comfortably against his left shoulder. He was one of the few siggers with black skin in the regiment, no doubt a volunteer from the Empire's southern conquests in the Timolia Island chain. Konowa knew the Timolia regiments to be fearsome warriors, an ethos developed over centuries of battling the red orcs of Winamaruk for control of the islands. From the battle scars on Aguom's face, it was clear the Color sergeant lived that tradition.

"I need you to fall back to where the wounded are and get the rest up to the fortress, then signal the retreat," Konowa said.

"At once, sir!" he said, saluting and marching away, the three corporals following close behind like a group of tavern strongmen hired to keep the rowdy at bay, which, in a way, was precisely their job…just with deadlier intent.

"I hope this works," Lorian said, watching the Color party move up the hill.

"We'll make it work," Konowa said, a growing confidence spreading through him.
"This battle will be over shortly."

"And what will happen then, Major?" Rallie asked, appearing behind him and Lorian as if from thin air. A particularly large cigar was clamped firmly between her teeth, its smoke more pungent than usual.

"It will get dark," Konowa remarked, not wishing to get dragged into another conversation he had no answers for.
"Where is Visyna?"

Rallie clucked and took the cigar out of her mouth, neatly stepping to one side as two arrows sliced through the place she had stood a moment before. A cannon boomed, the momentary silence after its shot followed by fewer elfkynan screams.
"Tending the wounded up at the fortress. She is an angel, to hear the boys tell
it. Many lives will be owed to her before the end of the day."

Konowa nodded, surprising Rallie and Lorian. "She'll
probably do more good than we will. Tell her that whatever she needs, she gets.
I want them given the best care possible."

Rallie and Lorian shared a look. "I will be most happy to convey that message, Major. And I sincerely hope there will be little more for her to do this day, though my heart tells me otherwise," she said, drawing deeply on her cigar as she eyed not the elfkynan army, but the ring of trees that surrounded them.

"Tell her…tell her I said thank you," Konowa said, his cheeks suddenly growing hot.

"I will, but make sure you're around to tell her yourself, too, when this is over," Rallie said, patting his arm, then leaving him and Lorian.

Konowa turned and saw Lorian staring at him. "Don't ask. Now, let's get this over with." They took the reins from a very relieved private, who scurried back to find some cover. Konowa climbed into the saddle, very aware of just how high off the ground he was as he looked down at Lorian on his smaller horse. Zwindarra tossed his head but remained calm.

"You volunteered for the cavalry?" Konowa asked, urging Zwindarra into a walk.

Lorian smiled, the first time in a while. "Major, it's the only way to fight. You feel that power of the horse beneath you, the wind in your face…it's magical—well, the kind of magic I understand," he added.

"You sound like the Duke," Konowa replied, shaking his head.
"I never really have understood the relationship between a cavalryman and his
horse."

Lorian nodded toward the fortress. "Some people might
say the same about an officer and his bengar."

It was Konowa's turn to smile.

An arrow sliced down between the horses, spooking Lorian's slightly.
"Signal the Color party," Konowa ordered.

Lorian tied a thin red pennant to his halberd and raised it high, waving it back and forth. A moment later a bugle sounded. The two platoons of C Company assigned to hold outside the ring of trees began an orderly retreat through the gap. As soon as they passed through, the other platoons started to give way slowly. It was apparent by their steps that they disagreed with the order. They had fought long and hard to hold the gap and had seen some friends die for it. And they were winning. The elfkynan charged and fell back only to charge again, their progress slowed by the mounting pile of bodies that littered the ground in front of the Iron Elves.

"They aren't pulling back fast enough," Lorian said, leaning forward in the saddle toward the gap.

Konowa gritted his teeth, silently urging the siggers on. He understood their feeling, but they had to make this look real.

There was a roar from beyond the trees and a group of elfkynan cavalry charged through the gap, their mioxja whistling as they swung them over their heads. They galloped headlong toward the retreating siggers. The five-pounder closest to the gap fired into their center, bowling over half a dozen horses and sending several more reeling. The momentum of two of the horses carried them another fifteen yards, stumbling into the line of Iron Elves and knocking several down. The soldiers quickly got up and reformed, but the damage had been done. Instead of one single line pulling back there was now a break, and the two halves began to pull apart as they retreated, creating a gap between them. The elfkynan following on foot saw their chance and ran headlong for the gap, seeing a chance to roll up the entire defensive line along the riverbank.

"Follow me!" Konowa shouted, drawing his saber and kicking Zwindarra with his heels. The horse neighed, leaped forward, and came close to unseating him now that he was holding the reins with only one hand.

The elfkynan were pushing the gap wider apart. Smoke bloomed from the front row of the Iron Elves and elfkynan tumbled and fell, but more came rushing through the gap, and there was now no time to reload. Another charge by the elfkynan cavalry would carry them through and behind the soldiers still holding the positions on the river. The acorn against his chest stabbed him with ice, spurring him on. He turned briefly to see Lorian galloping beside him, the point of his halberd lowered like a lance.

"Hold, you bastards, hold!" Konowa shouted, taking Zwindarra straight through the gap and into a group of elfkynan, who threw up their hands in surprise as the huge black horse came at them. Konowa brought his saber down on an elfkynan's arm, severing it at the elbow. Black frost sparkled on the wound and Konowa felt the familiar cold fury grip him. Zwindarra reared and flailed his hooves at two elfkynan in front of them, the sound of his steel shoes against skull bone loud and jarring.