A Darkness Forged in Fire (38 page)

F
ocus, my dear, or a lot of people are going to get hurt," Rallie said, laying a hand on her shoulder. Visyna felt an immediate rush, the weariness in her lifting, but not all the way.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this!" Visyna said, trying to ignore the sights and sounds of battle. She stood just behind the crumbled wall of the fort where the remaining Iron Elves fired down at the marauding rakkes. Her attention had to be on the diminishing circle of elfkynan, but it was hard not to watch Konowa and Lorian and the Iron Elves make their way up to the fortress. Shades now stalked the battleground, their blades afire with black flame, and she had no more energy left to deal with them.

Her fingers wove and rewove the fabric of the natural order, mending ever-bigger tears as she fought to keep the elfkynan safe.

"You're doing fine, my child," Rallie said, her gruff voice a soothing lifeline in a sea of noise.

"I could use some help," Visyna said. Thus far, Rallie had done little more than stand beside her, puffing on a cigar and sketching the battle in a notebook.

"Help, I think, is on the way," Rallie replied.

A volley of musket fire rattled and cracked in front of them, the smell of sulfur stinging her eyes. Prince Tykkin strode into view, the wings on his shako flapping as he paced back and forth behind the firing line.

"The Star is here, I can feel it," he said, looking around the fort. Musket fire, arrows, and tumbling splinters of wood filled the air, and blood trees writhed and stabbed their limbs at any flesh that got too close.
"A gold coin to the soldier who finds the Star! A hundred gold coins!"

"Go find it yourself, you bloody fool!" a soldier shouted back, but it was impossible to see who amid all the confusion.

The Prince sputtered with rage, drawing his sword, then resheathing it, only to draw it again.
"Witch! I demand that you find me the Star. Perform whatever magic you must and
you will be well rewarded."

Visyna considered striking the Prince down where he stood, but knew that to do so would be to condemn the elfkynan to death. It was her weaving that was protecting her countrymen.

"Put it away, Your Highness," Rallie said, waving a hand at him.
"The girl is rather busy at the moment."

"Very well, then I shall lead a charge myself to
finish this battle so that the search can continue. Color party! Prepare to
charge!"

Sergeant Salia Aguom looked at the Prince, then over at Rallie. Visyna spared the briefest of looks. Would he do it?

"With all due respect, Your Highness," Rallie said,
"that would be tantamount to killing the future King, and I cannot allow that to
happen. Your mother would be most displeased with me."

"My mother be damned!" the Prince shouted, walking forward to rest one foot on the edge of the wall.
"I will have the Star this night!"

Sergeant Aguom sighed and followed, the rest of the Color party reluctantly forming up with him. It appalled Visyna that men would throw away their lives in such a foolish manner.

A new force washed over the battlefield, its evil unmistakable. Visyna kept her hands moving even as she saw the Shadow Monarch's elves emerge from the trees. There was a growl behind her and Jir loped up onto the crumbled parapet and got down low on his stomach, the hair on the back of his neck standing straight up.

"Rallie, do something," Visyna whispered, wishing she could do more herself.

Rallie frowned, then pulled the cigar from her mouth and whistled between her teeth. Jir looked at her, then turned back to the battlefield, settling his body even lower in preparation to pounce. Rallie whistled again, much louder, and the bengar reluctantly came down from the parapet and padded over to her, his tail swishing in agitation.

Visyna couldn't hear what Rallie said to the bengar, but she felt a tremor in the skeins of power as the woman spoke. A moment later, Jir disappeared back into the fortress.

"I meant to do something to stop this," Visyna said, her frustration boiling up.

Somewhere behind them a muraphant trumpeted, the call picked up by the others. The ground began to shake beneath Visyna's feet.

The muraphants were stampeding.

Soldiers dove out of the way as the animals burst from their temporary corral and rumbled through the fortress and over a low spot in the wall. Out of the corner of her eye, Visyna saw Jir clutching the rear of the last muraphant as it ran past, the bengar's eyes quite wide.

The arrival of the great beasts on the battlefield had an immediate effect. Any rakkes unfortunate enough to be in their path were trampled into oblivion. Visyna saw Jir jump from his ride and momentarily lost him in the confusion. The muraphants kept going, passing between the Iron Elves' square and the elfkynan circle as they made for the remembered gap by the river, their only thought to flee. The bara jogg opened their mouths wide in anticipation and were crushed by the maddened herd. The muraphants kept going, only to be stopped by a new wall of trees that closed the road and their escape.

The bengar reappeared, running straight for the nearest dark elf Konowa, but a rakke blocked its way. The rakke's throat was torn out with a single swipe of the bengar's claws. Jir ran on, but more rakkes moved to intercept him.

Just then another howitzer shell lifted into the night sky, the familiar trail of sparks like a comet crossing the heavens. Visyna sensed something odd, and saw from the corner of her eye the shell alter course to come down among the ring of
sarka har.
White light burst forth and then was gone. The muraphants thundered toward the gap.

Rallie blew out a long stream of smoke, nodding to herself.
"No need, my dear, no need. Someone beat me to it."

S
tay close, Ally; same goes for the rest of you," Yimt said. He jogged toward the gap in the trees.

"Sweet knobby-kneed nuns!" he shouted, turning and running back toward them. He grabbed Alwyn by the cross-belts and heaved him to the side as muraphants burst through the gap in the trees and into the open.

Alwyn got up spitting dirt and cautiously peered into the gap. The elves of the Long Watch slipped through with ease, their bows humming as arrows streaked across the field.

"Okay, let's try that again," Yimt said, his voice a little quieter than normal. He led them through the wreckage of the
sarka har
and onto the battlefield. Alwyn gasped as he stepped through the trees, both at the cold and at what he saw. Of all the nightmares he had had or would ever have, nothing would match this.

Bodies, of all kinds, littered the ground. Bara jogg of immense size heaved themselves over the earth, consuming anything that lay in their path. Shadows flitted in and out of sight, blazing swords of ugly black flame spraying hoar frost with every thrust and parry. A branch on one of the
sarka har
stabbed down at Alwyn, its razor-edged leaves slashing the arm of his jacket, but not the flesh beneath.

"You must be alert to the dangers around you," Chayii said, suddenly appearing at his elbow. She held a long, thin sword in her hand and used it to cut the branch off with a quick flick of her wrist. Black ichor sprayed from the tree's wound, and a scream sounded somewhere in Alwyn's head. He looked down at the gleaming wooden sword, still amazed that something made of wood could be so sharp. The weapon glowed warmly, its surface polished smoother than marble, the deep browns of the grain pulsing with energy.

Something distant tugged at Alwyn's consciousness and made him turn. It was as if the world had suddenly been connected, each thing, each emotion, a tiny piece of an immense puzzle, and all connected to one another. There were no words, but he understood the threat.

Fifty yards away, one of the black elves stared at Chayii. It obviously sensed the power in the weapon and knew it for what it was. It hissed
Hynta-reig
, and Alwyn knew, in the way he had known back in the forest, that the words meant the elves of the deep forest,
the abandoners
. He felt the long-borne hatred that coursed through the elf as it pulled back the string on its bow. So great was its fury that it failed to see Yimt aiming his shatterbow at it.

The shatterbow fired first. The elf was taken in the chest by two black arrows of its own making. The fingers holding the string went slack, loosing the arrow even as the elf fell lifeless to the ground.

Alwyn reached out for Miss Red Owl and pushed her forward, stumbling after her. The black arrow tore through the leather cartridge pouch on his hip, the cloth of his caerna, and finally the flesh beneath. He felt his thigh bone break as he hit the ground, a scream blown from his lungs.

"Ally's hit!" Boots thudded on the ground, hands grabbed him and rolled him over. He was aware of slashes of light and crushing darkness. Elvish words drifted through to him and he latched on to them, understanding they were a lifeline. The sound of his blood pumping roared in his ears. The pain in his leg dug a little deeper each time. A voice whispered in his head, calling him, seeking control.

"I'm sorry, Yimt, I'm so sorry," he said, not knowing why. The pain and the cold were consuming him. He looked down at his left leg, at the black arrow stuck there, high above the knee, its steel-leaf fletching already growing as the shaft pulsed with his blood. A tourniquet was cinched tight around his upper thigh, but he could feel the cold trying to seep beyond it and into the rest of his body.

"Nothing to apologize for, lad," Yimt said, leaning over him, the end of his beard just inches from Alwyn's face. The dwarf turned and looked at someone nearby.
"Do your magic! Get that thing out of him! You did it before!"

Chayii came into view, shaking her head. "It has
already taken root, and he is still weak from the last one. To try to reverse it
now would put too much strain on him. I fear he would not survive."

Yimt's face turned bright red. "This ain't no time to
be worrying about trees over people! I put two of them black arrows into that
korwird and you countered them; this is only one."

Chayii turned her head quickly toward Yimt, anger bright on her face.
"Would you have us shoot him with an arrow in the other leg? No, master dwarf, the arrow is now part of him. This is no choice I make, it is as it is. The korwird was dead when we culled the
sarka har.
To cull this one would be to cull Alwyn as well, sending him to a fate worse
than death."

"Then I'll take care of it," Yimt said, reaching out to grab the arrow.
"Scolly, Teeter, hold him down. Inkermon, you believe in that creator of yours so much, I want a prayer, and a damn good one." He paused, thinking for a moment, then looked back at Alwyn.
"Ally, lad, this might hurt a bit, so try not to scream too much."

Alwyn tried to protest, but his throat was locked, his mouth clenched against the pain. He closed his eyes and prayed for unconsciousness. It eluded him. The irony of it brought tears to his eyes and he started to laugh.

"No!" Chayii said. "To rip it out would kill him. The
sapling and his leg are one. There is no way to separate them. We must end his
misery before he is beyond us."

Alwyn opened his eyes. Everything was growing distant as the cold infused him. He managed to utter two words.
"Do it."

Yimt looked at him with genuine shock.

He turned to Chayii, who nodded. "It is the only way," she said. Alwyn noticed that she still held her sword in her hand.

Alwyn turned his head away as hands gently held his arms and legs. He heard Yimt gasp, and looked back. The dwarf was shaking his head in disbelief.

"No. There is another way,"
Meri said, holding out a shadowy hand.