Exclusive - Read the first 100 pages of A DARKNESS FORGED IN FIRE

8/4/2019 Exclusive - Read the first 100 pages of A DARKNESS FORGED IN FIRE

1/106


2/106

Chris Evans

Opocket books

new york london toronto s ydney

B O O K O N E O F T H E I R O N E L V E S

A

d A R k n e s s

F o R g e d

I n

F I R e


3/106

Pocket BooksA Division o Simon & Schuster, Inc.1230 Avenue o the AmericasNew York, NY 10020

This book is a work o ction. Names, characters, places,and incidents either are products o the authors imaginationor are used ctitiously. Any resemblance to actual events orlocales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2008 by Chris Evans

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this bookor portions thereo in any orm whatsoever. For inormationaddress Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230Avenue o the Americas, New York, NY 10020

First Pocket Books paperback edition June 2009

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks o Simon

& Schuster, Inc.For inormation about special discounts or bulkpurchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at1-866-506-1949 or [email protected].

The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors toyour live event. For more inormation or to book an event, con-

tact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

Cover design by Alan Dingman.Sword by John Picacio.Interior map by Mike Bechthold.

Manuactured in the United States o America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

ISBN: 978-1-4165-7052-3


4/106


5/106

o n e

Mountains shouldnt scream, but this one

did.

The agony o the rock vibrated

beneath the paws o a small, brown squirrel crouched

low behind a boulder near the summit. The rigidnight air thrummed in sympathetic harmony with

the mountain, blurring the light rom a shooting star

trailing crimson re across the sky. Shadows shattered

and reormed, their shapes subtly altered.

The squirrel sat up on its hind legs and looked to

the sky, its glittering eyes ollowing the path o the

red star as it burned across the sky toward the east.

Letting out a sigh, the squirrel shook its small head;

no matter how many centuries you had to get ready,prophecies always caught you o guard. The Stars

were returning to the world. It was a strange thought

or a squirrel to have, but not or the el-wizard that

had taken squirrel orm.


6/106

2 c h r i s e v a n s

Remaining transormed or the time being, the

wizard dropped to all ours and leaped to anotherboulder a ew eet higher up, stretching out his arms

and legs to take advantage o the loose olds o ur

between them. He landed on the next boulder hu-

ing or breath. It was denitely easier to fy going

downhill. He looked up to the mountain summit andshivered in spite o the ur that currently covered his

body. A group o trees dotted the peak.And Im just a

squirrel, the wizard thought, rubbing his paws together

or warmth beore continuing his climb.

The wizards tail bushed as he scampered closer tothe top. With each jump the ground elt increasingly

wrong. Something was changing it rom the inside,

and he knew what. The roots o the trees on the sum-

mit were clawing their way deep into the heart o the

mountain to eed on the rock. Until tonight, theyhad been contained, isolated on this mountaintop

where they could be controlled, i not destroyed. The

alling o the Red Star in the east signaled that was

no longer the case. A power not known in the world

since the beginning o time was returning. Power that

could either save it, or destroy it.

He concentrated on the orest, wishing he was

powerul enough to wipe it rom the ace o the

earth himsel, but knowing it was ar beyond him.He hoped, however, that his plan might help the one

who could. All the wizard had to do was steal one

small thing. And survive. Its why he had transormed

himsel. A wizard going into this orest would never


7/106

A Da rkn e s s Fo r g e d i n F i r e 3

return. A squirrel, on the other hand, had the slim-

mest o chances o surviving by going unnoticed.He hoped.

The wizard paused again in his climb to catch his

breath, watching it turn to mist and rise in the icy air,

drawing his eyes to the trees that clung to the rock.

No living thing should have ound a home there,yet the orest survived, its roots boring ever deeper

into the rock, suckling on the bitter ore it ound.

Leaves turned iron-black, the wind honing them

to a razor edge. Bark crystallized, growing translu-

cent to reveal the thick ichor pulsing beneath whilebranches withered needle thin, stabbing down at the

ground in the vain search or something feshier to

consume.

It was a orest, o a kind.

The mountain shuddered and sent chunks o rockcartwheeling down its side, as i trying to shake the

orest loose. Just in time the wizard hid in a crevice

until the avalanche had passed. He poked his head up

a moment later and prepared to make the nal dash

into the trees. It didnt look promisingarrowlike

twigs splintered against rock with a sound o ringing

iron as the trees now hunted among the shadows.

The wizard twitched his squirrel tail twice then

darted between the crystal trunks in a wild dash orthe center o the orest. Branches slashed down as he

dodged and scrambled or his lie.

Finally, out o breath and on the verge o exhaus-

tion, he came to the very center o the orest.


8/106


There, on a ragged knuckle o granite, stood a

silver Wol Oak.He knew the Wol Oaks well, good nuts, but this

one was wholly unlike the tall, majestic trees in the

Great Forest o the Hyntaland on the plains below.

Those trees were tall and proud, their limbs strong

and supple in the nurturing sun. This tree sharednone o those traits, growing low and wide across the

rock, snaking its jagged limbs out in every direction to

ensnare its progeny in a thicket o wild, dark hunger.

Glinting, obsidian-shelled acorns covered the ground

beneath it.The orest was expanding.

The wizard elt the sudden urge to get o the

ground and climb somewhere high. He looked at the

trees around him and decided that the ground, as pol-

luted as it was, was still preerable. It was as he eared.Being this close to the silver Wol Oak was taking

its toll; he was starting to think like a squirrel. Wol

Oaks were the natural conduits or the raw, elemental

magic o nature, and among them the silvers had no

equal. This one surpassed even them.

Five hundred rings ago, this silver Wol Oak had

been a sapling cub in the birthing meadow o the

Great Forest, a new, young lie ull o promise. In

time, it would have towered above the tallest trees,a singular being o incredible, i simple power, rul-

ing and protecting the orest by infuencing all living

things around it. It had been that way since the begin-


9/106

A Da rkn e s s F o r g e d i n F i r e 5

ning. Then the elves had come to the Hyntaland, and

everything changed.The wizard ought his most basic instinctsel

and squirrelto fee down the mountain. Not yet

though, not without getting what he came or. He

placed one paw in ront o the other and started to

move cautiously toward the silver Wol Oak, only tond his progress stopped because the more sensible

squirrel part o his mind had wedged his tail between

two rocks, saving his lie.

Black, hoary rost sparkled on the rocks, radiating

out rom the tree in all directions. A moment later,a piece o night detached itsel rom the rest o the

darkness.

The Shadow Monarch, el witch o the high,

dark orest, had come.

She stood beside the silver Wol Oak, the reeko cold, metallic power lling the orest. He sensed

more than saw. Her head turn and look toward him.

His breath roze in his lungs, his vision darkening

around the edges.

Her gaze moved on. He relaxed ever so slightly,

drawing in the tiniest o breaths. Frost glistened o

his whiskers.

The Shadow Monarch looked up to the sky, ol-

lowing the path o the allen Red Star. She reachedout to the tree. Anger, pain, desire, and something

more inused the two, twisting the very air around

them. Their madness wove together until their power


10/106


was one and the same, staining everything. She then

wrapped Her arms around the tree, a dark thing cra-dling a dark thing, and the wizard sensed what he had

long eared: above all else, She wanted revenge.

The wizard raised his head, peering beyond his

whiskers to the black tableau a ew eet away. The

Shadow Monarch was looking down at a pool oichor beside the silver Wol Oak. The pool shim-

mered, revealing an image o the Great Forest to

the west o the mountain. Elves o the Long Watch,

ormed to protect the Great Forest rom Her mad-

ness, patrolled among the trees. For centuries nowthey had kept Her at bay, orever vigilant, keeping

Her and Her orest isolated high on the mountain.

It was a comorting vision. What happened next

wasnt.

Black fame fickered in the Great Forest, andelves and trees began to shrivel and die. Stars ell, but

wherever they landed Her orest was there, devouring

the Stars power and making it Her own. New trees

burst orth rom the cold earth like daggers o crystal

and ore. These trees spread, covering more and more

ground until no ree space remained . . . blanketing

mountain and desert, lake and ocean, in one dark

orest.

The mountain shuddered anew. A dierent imageormed in the dark pool. Soldiers now stood about,

their green jackets and iron muskets the unmistakable

hallmarks o the Calahrian Imperial Army, the sharp

edge o the human empire across the ocean.


11/106


The image in the pool pulled back, revealing

more. There was a small ortress on a hill, vaguelyamiliar to him. Power fowed rom Her to the pool

and the image grew larger as She searched or some-

thing there. The wizard gasped as Her magic suddenly

washed over him. He struggled to keep control and

remember why he was here, knowing he was slowlylosing the ght as the magic o Her orest wreaked

havoc with his mind.

The shooting star blazed across the sky above

the small ort, then stopped, hanging there like a red

sun. The brilliance o its light grew until the ichorturned completely crimson. And then the light was

gone and no sign o the star remained, but something

had changed.

Slowly, silently, he inched out o his hiding place

and crept along the ground toward the thing he hadcome or. Every step was a cold needle in his paws,

but there, just a oot away, lay one o the silver Wol

Oaks obsidian-shelled acorns. It was close, but he

needed a distraction.

He concentrated, trying to draw magic rom the oul

power that coursed around him. Wincing with pain, he

sited it in his mind until he was able to cleanse enough

to perorm one small spell. It would have to do.

He ocused his thoughts on a tree on the otherside o the clearing, and or a moment it looked more

like what it should have been; brown and green and

healthy. The other trees attacked it at once, failing

and stabbing it in a furry o branches. The wizard


12/106


lunged, grabbing the acorn between his paws and

stung it into his mouth. Cold lightning fashedthrough his head, but he managed to scamper back

behind a rock beore spitting the acorn out into his

paws where it steamed in the air.

The mountain shuddered again, a deep, mournul

sound. Rock sundered. Chasms opened deep into themountains core, laying bare its ancient past. Flames

o black rost leaped rom the darkness and high

into the night sky. Her orest dug ever deeper, delv-

ing more than rock, reaching back to an age long past.

Primal, red-throated roars not heard or hundreds oyears lled the air, and they were hungry. Another

voice rose above them, and the bit o the wizard that

remained in control shivered at the words.

You shall feed, too,She told them. Roots pulledmisshapen creatures rom the depths. They spilledorth in black heaps, a shambling mass o crooked

limbs and milky white eyes.

Go out in this world as you once did. Gatherto me those that bear my mark. Those others thatwould harm My realm . . . destroy.

Every ber in his body told him to run while his

luck held, but he had to risk one last look in the

pool. Like the Great Forest, tongues o rost re were

engulng the ortress on the hill, burning everything.Her trees breached the earth, their roots clawing,

searching or the star that had allen there.

Enough. He stued the acorn back in his mouth

and ran or his lie.


13/106


The pain was overwhelming, but he had to get

back down the mountain with his prize. Every leaptook him urther away rom this inernal place and

closer to the one who now had a chance to stop Her.

When he reached the bottom o the mountain he

ound a nearby cave and crawled into it, spitting the

acorn out and collapsing in a heap, his body trans-orming to that o an el again. He let the pain and

exhaustion take him, driting into unconsciousness

with the satisaction o knowing he had succeeded in

the rst part o his task. When he was ully recovered

he would be able to deliver the prize in person.

High up on the mountain, the Shadow Monarch

stood watching. She saw the el-wizard collapse in

the cave. Creatures stood beside Her, waiting. Some

still bore the look o elves, though terribly twisted.They waited or the command to tear the wizard to

shreds. The command did not come. Instead, the

Shadow Monarch smiled.

Worlds shouldnt scream, but this one would.


14/106

t w o

Asentry leaned against an abandoned bullock

cart, propping his musket against a shattered

wheel. The aded painted letters on the

side o the cart spelled out 35th footcalahrian

imperial army, not that he could read them, not thathe cared. He took a quick glance around the other

side o the cart and saw nothing, just a ew dots o

orange in the night where lanterns burned along the

ortress walls. It was as run-down as the cart. Only in

darkness did it still look ortlike, and even then the

ragged line o lanterns showed where parts o the

walls had collapsed through time and neglect.

He pushed his shako back on his head and ran

a sleeve across his sweaty brow while undoing thetop button o his uniorm. You could poach an egg in this

heat, he gured, then elt sick at the thought. There

was a time when hed scar down a horse steak barely

seared on the re and ask or seconds, but the heat


15/106


o this place robbed a man o appetite, and not just

or ood.Honor guard my arse, he grumbled to himsel,

pulling a small carved pipe and leather pouch o

tobacco rom a jacket pocket. So the last Viceroy

was dat enough to get himsel killed here, so what?

What honor do they think were guarding now?he asked, knowing he would not get a satisactory

answer, even i he wasnt just talking to himsel. It

was like that in the army. Ask away, the sergeants

said, but youll never like the answer. Made a sol-

dier think there was little uture in thinking muchat all.

Shoulda had a better guard two years ago, might

have done him some good then, he said, chuckling at

his own joke. He tamped a thick wad o lea into the

bowl o the pipe with his thumb then with his lethand patted his uniorm or his fint and tinder box.

He stole another look back up at the ortress. He had

ten minutes, teen at the most, beore the sergeant

would come down to check on him. Time enough

or a good smoke, i only he could nd the fint. His

hand ell on something hard and square in a pocket

and he smiled. Pulling out the tinder box, he quickly

slipped the piece o fint rom inside and was about

to strike it when a glitter in the sky made him stop.He looked up into a ery light that roared into being

directly above the ort.

He screamed, dropping the fint and throwing an

arm across his eyes. Pure, red light radiated in every


16/106

1 2 c h r i s e v a n s

direction and then just as quickly, was gone. Slowly,

he let his arm drop, blinking to get his vision back.Everything looked the same as beore. The ort

still stood, the lanterns marking its walls. Had it been

a spell? He patted himsel all over and ound that he

elt the same, too. He remembered the fint and bent

over to look or it. Was that rost?He leaned closer, reaching down with his hand. The

air elt cool on his ngertips nearer to the ground.

The grass shriveled beore his eyes as the earth

cracked like a plate thrown to the foor. Something

black burst through the earth and latched on to hiswrist. He tried to all backward, but he couldnt break

ree o the icy grip. A shout roze in his throat as a

dark shape emerged rom the ground in ront o him.

Its ace was a jagged puzzle o shadow, but some-

thing about it looked amiliar.. . . V-Viceroy? he managed, his breath a pale

mist.

The thing that held him let go o his wrist and

grabbed him by the throat, liting him up until his

boots no longer touched the ground. The small pipe

and tinder box ell to the dirt and were immediately

covered in a cold, black rost.

Not anymore, Her Emissary said, letting go o

the dead body and moving toward the dots o orangelight up the hill. A orest, o a kind, began to grow

in its wake.

It began to hunt.


17/106


There were many places you didnt want to be in the

middle o summer in the sweltering humidity o highnoon on the southern coast o Elkyna. The center o

the bazaar o Port Ghamjal topped the list. Heat oozed

through the streets like wet mortar, lling every crack

and crevice and slowing the pace o lie to a crawl.

Faltinald Elkhart Gwyn, recipient o the Ordero the Amber Chalice, holder o the Blessed Garter

o St. DiWynn, Member o the Royal Society o

Thaumaturgy and Science, and Her Majestys newly

appointed Viceroy or the Protectorate o Greater

Elkyna o the Calahrian Empire, was not amused.He should have been in the viceroyal palace hours

ago, but his carriage and procession were currently

stopped dead.

Malodorous cesspool, the Viceroy said, raising

a scented handkerchie to his nose. Smells bubbledand oozed in the sweltering cauldron o ve thou-

sand merchant stalls jammed into an area originally

intended to hold a th that number. Beasts o

burden were as numerous as the fies that swarmed

around them, buzzing black clouds surging several

eet in the air with every swish o a dung-crusted tail.

Cinnamon, raw meats, curdling milk, mustard, car-

damom, and the bitterly sharp tungam nut assaulted

the nose and watered the eyes and almost distractedthe marketgoer rom the underlying stench o sweat

and raw sewage.

The carriage door swung open and a lieutenant in

the green uniorm o the Calahrian inantry saluted.


18/106


The market smells washed into the cabin and the

Viceroy ought the urge to gag.Sorry or the delay, your grace, but one o the

outriders horses knocked over an elkynans stall, and

the merchant wont let us past until we pay.

The Viceroy sighed behind his handkerchie. Is

that all? Fine, shoot him.The ocer blinked and opened and closed his

mouth. Sir?

To delay the Viceroy is to delay the work o the

Empire, which is tantamount to revolt. O course,

shooting a merchant in the bazaar as one o his rstacts as newly appointed Viceroy would cause no little

unrest in the country, he realized, and he was not

unhappy at the thought. It was time or the Empire

to orge a new path in the world even i Her Majesty

did not agree, and to do so he would set Elkynaafame.

The lieutenant coughed, clearly lost on the word

tantamount. The word revolt, however, registered

with him like a cannon shot. Your grace, I dont

think its as bad as all that! The murmur o a grow-

ing crowd indicated that it wasnt yet, but could be i

given the right provocation.

The Viceroy lowered his handkerchie and gave

the ocer a smile that showed teeth and not a hint ohumanity. Really? Bring me that news parchment,

he said, pointing to a tattered scroll o paper pinned

to the wall across rom the open door. The lieutenant

yelled at a sergeant, who quickly retrieved the parch-


19/106


ment, handing it to the ocer who in turn handed it

to the Viceroy.Can you read this? the Viceroy asked, pointing

to the large black letters at the top o the scroll.

Its the Imperial Weekly Herald, your grace, the lieu-

tenant said slowly.

O the Calahrian Empire, yes. And below that?The lieutenant squinted. northern tribes stage

peaceful protest, a story by Her Majestys Scribe

Rallie Synjyn.

The rst twinge o a headache blossomed behind

the Viceroys eyes. The very idea o a reporter oevents struck the Viceroy as running counter to

everything he believed in. Spies or those in power

were one thing, but inorming the governed was quite

another. The masses did not need to know, only to

obey. Clearly, Her Majestys Scribe Rallie Synjyn wasa thorn that needed plucking.

The natives are growing restless. They have been

without proper leadership or too long. Order must

be restored. The state o aairs was indeed deplor-

able; things were not disorderly enough, a act Synjyn

and the Imperial Weekly Heraldcontinued to convey.

Two years ago, in a sop to Imperial brotherhood,

Her Majesty had appointed an el rom the Hynta-

land to oversee Elkyna. It did not turn out as HerMajesty wished. For one thing, the elkynan werent

actually elves, and harbored a deep resentment o

those that were. Three centuries beore, an explorer

looking or an eastern sea passage to the homeland


20/106


o the real elves in the Hyntaland discovered a new

land by mistake. Convinced he really had ound theHyntaland, the explorer insisted on proclaiming the

natives el-kind, despite the act that the elkynan

were a somewhat short, stocky race that looked noth-

ing like elves and ar more like humans, though the

Viceroy deplored the idea.A second problem had been the previous Vice-

roys capricious, brutal, and above all, bloody reign.

An iron st in an iron glove. How . . . appropriate, the

new Viceroy thought, reusing to even entertain the

punthat the last Viceroy was murdered by the elcommanding the Iron Elves regiment, Her Majestys

colonial troops rom the Hyntaland.

The scandal had rocked the Empire. The elves o

the Hyntaland, once viewed as the Queens most loyal

colonial subjects, were now seen as the duplicitousbeings they were. The Iron Elves were disbanded,

their soldiers placed aboard a galley and sent south

across the ocean to the desert wastes, while their

ocer was court-martialed and cashiered rom the

service, but not, unortunately, executed. Evidence

apparently existed that suggested the previous Vice-

roy had in act been working or someone else. While

Calahr was mortied by it all, the elkynan rejoiced

in the Viceroys demise, and much o their growingresentment was defated. The urgency to appoint a

new Viceroy diminished, and it took considerable

maneuvering within the royal court or Gwyn to

nally secure the posting. In the meantime, the work


21/106

A Da rkn e s s F o r g e d i n F i r e 1 7

o the last Viceroy had simmered in the heat with no

one to stir it up.Well, that was all about to change.

I expect to be in my palace within the hour,

Lieutenant. Someone is going to be shot in the next

ten seconds; Ill leave it up to you who.

The lieutenant saluted and closed the door.Orders barked out and the sound o metal ramrods

rattling in musket barrels sent up a cry among the

crowd. The carriage swayed as people ran.

Fire! The musket volley echoed o the mud

brick walls, ollowed by screaming. The carriage beganto move orward again, the squelch o things beneath

its wheels adding to the din. The Viceroy closed his

eyes and allowed himsel another smile. Things had

indeed changed.

Four hours later the Viceroy stood among the ruins

o his palace, looking or someone to blame. He

took a calming breath and surveyed his new home.

The palace was little more than a collection o

tumbled blocks o sun-dried mud. It reminded

him o a potters wheel let unattended, the wet

clay slumping and racturing as it dried into sot,

meaningless bits.

Shattered pieces o statues representing dei-ties once venerated now suocated under sheets o

lichen, slowly eating away at them until not even the

memory o their godliness remained. Had the pre-

vious Viceroy actually lived among this squalor? He


22/106


considered that. The man hadbeen an el, one o the

races close to nature and all that rubbish.The lieutenant ollowed the Viceroys gaze. The

last Viceroy never took up residence here, your grace,

the lieutenant said, his voice quavering slightly.

Always o on some kind o expedition or other.

Searching or buried treasure, no doubt, the Viceroysaid. It was a poorly kept secret that the previous Vice-

roy had spent the bulk o his time, when not antago-

nizing the elkynan, tearing up the country in search

o magical artiacts. The el s search had ended, badly,

at the little garrison ort o Luuguth Jor.They say he was looking or signs o the Stars,

your grace, trying to nd where they had once been.

He had maps and wizards and everything to try and

nd them.

The Viceroy looked closely at the lieutenant orthe rst time. He had the look o a wax toy let too

long in the sun. Everything about him drooped, rom

his eyes to his stance. Middle-aged, only a lieuten-

ant, and assigned to guard duty in a backwater like

Elkyna, he was the epitome o the Empire today:

sot.

The lieutenant blushed under the Viceroys stare

and continued. You know, your grace, that old chil-

drens tale about how the Stars in the sky are reallyrom the ground, and that one day, when a red star

ell, the world would, well, end.

The Eastern Star? The Viceroy knew the leg-

end, had heard the rumor about the el s expeditions,


23/106


and had thought it a case o too much sun and too

little brain, but now . . . The Stars are myth, pointso light o no more power than that el-witch in her

orest across the sea.

The lieutenant shook his head, a not insignicant

act o bravery or the man. Oh, no, your grace, the

Shadow Monarch is real. In act, theres some whothink, well, that the last Viceroy was working or Her,

on account o him being an el rom over there, like

Her . . .

The Viceroys eyes stared daggers, perected rom

practicing the look in the mirror.Are you suggesting Her Majestys representa-

tive was a traitor to the Empire? The rst rule hed

learned in the diplomatic corps was to never reveal

your true thoughts to anyone. Ever.

The lieutenant stammered, so ar out o his depththe pressure was making it hard to breathe. I-I meant

no disrespect, your grace! Its just that when Colonel

Osveen killed him

That will be all, Lieutenant, the Viceroy said,

oering the man another tooth-lled smile. I sug-

gest you put your imagination to better use by won-

dering what will happen i this palace is not restored

to a tting state within two weeks.

Two weeks? the lieutenant managed to squeak,his ace draining o all color.

Sooner, i you preer. Now, dont let me keep

you rom your work, he said, turning away as the

man saluted and stumbled o into the dark.


24/106


The Viceroy walked toward what had been the

throne room, or perhaps, he wondered, had theymerely placed palm ronds on the foor and lounged

there like so many dogs? Natives, he thought, they

were the same the world over. The Empire was ar too

lenient in allowing them to keep their inerior cultures.

It was long past time or the Empire to exert itsel asit once had, bringing re and steel and civilization to

the unenlightened. Orcs, dwarves, elves, elkynan, and

the rest o the muddied races had been allowed to

thrive in this age o peace, poisoning the Empire rom

within and without. The Queens mercy would be theEmpires downall i something wasnt done.

As he walked, he considered the rumors o the

Red Star. He trusted rumors the way he trusted sharp

knives, and sought a way to grasp the point without

getting pricked. However, i the Stars were real . . .Thoughts o the Stars were pushed aside as he

entered his would-be throne room. Lanterns hung

rom iron poles in a circle. They cast a futtering, yel-

low light, creating the impression o lie where there

was only crumbling mud and stone. The once ornate

tile foor was spider-webbed with cracks and stained

with splotches o uzzy mold. Looking distinctly out

o place in the center o the room was a long, oak

conerence table with two wicker chairs around it, thesum total o urnishings the palace had to oer. The

chairs were o native design, ar too rustic or his

liking, but the table was unlike anything he had ever

seen beore. Its legs were carved to resemble those o


25/106


a dragon, sinew and claw masterully reproduced. It

made the table look as i it were about to leap. Thetop gleamed with inlaid emerald leaves polished into

the wood in the shape o a dragons head, the mouth

wide open and staring up at him with two black eyes.

It made him eel he was being watched, a trick he

suspected was created by more than a simple wood-carvers skill.

Viceroy Gwyn sat down in a chair in ront o the

table and ran his hands along the surace, marvel-

ing at the smooth, tingling sensation that ran up his

arm. He deliberately placed his hand over the drag-ons maw then chided himsel or thinking anything

might actually happen. It was a marvelous creation.

He smiled. Well, well, it was the rst positive thing

the departed Viceroy had let him.

Change is coming, wait and see, he said quietly.It might have been a breeze playing with the lantern

fames, but or a moment, the table seemed to gleam

a little brighter.


26/106

t H R e e

Konowa Swit Dragon didnt trust trees, not

since hed allen out o one when he was a

child o six years. His relationship with them

had only gotten worse since then. He spun around

quickly to ace behind him, alert or any sign omovement. The game path he ollowed was bare, the

trees to either side big, brown, green, and motionless.

Good. Something buzzed by his ear and he slapped a

hand against his neck then held it out in ront o his

ace to examine the kill. He grunted with satisaction;

at least one black fy would no longer torment him.

Thatll teach you, he said, wiping his hand on

the bark o a nearby tree. He grabbed the canteen

slung across his shoulder and took a drink, lookingaround at this strange, sweltering orest that was now

his home.

A miasma o sounds and smells assaulted him at

every turn. Bugs, birds, and urred-beasts twittered,


27/106


chittered, spewed, cawed, oozed, growled, yelped, and

bit all day and most aggravatingly, all night. The treessecreted bucketuls o cloying sap, the smell every

bit as vile as a ormal palace ball hed once attended

at the height o summer years ago in the Calahrian

capital.

Between the stink and the racket there was enoughto make him despise the orest, but ate, it seemed,

wasnt satised with that. On top o everything else,

Konowa was certain the trees were watching him.

Worse, he had the growing suspicion that they were

trying to tell him something. He walked up to one,even reaching out a hand to pat it, but it looked and

acted just like a tree, being absolutely inscrutable as

it stood there.

Its just the heat, he decided, wiping the sweat

rom his brow. Elkyna was suocatingly hot in thesummer, humid in the snowless winter, and miserable

the rest o the year.

He was, as he had been or the past year, alone in

a orest.

It brought to mind the angry words hed shouted

all those years ago as he clutched his broken arm and

kicked the trunk o the tree that had let him all: I

hate the orest and I dont want to be an el anymore!

Decades later, that sentiment remained.Sighing, Konowa dropped the canteen to his side

and held his hands out beore him, palms up, won-

dering i he would ever hold his own ate again. He

looked closer at his hands. His natural tanned color


28/106


was deepening to a hue close to the reddish-brown

bark o the trees around him. Great, he thought, Imturning into a bloody tree. He ran his hands through the

tangled thatch o long black hair on his head, hal

expecting to eel leaves sprouting there. Instead, his

ngers brushed against the tops o his ears, eeling

the point on the right, and ragged scar tissue onthe let where the point used to be. The mutilation

hadnt been by choice, but he wasnt overly upset with

the results. He had never been comortable with his

heritage.

Konowa closed his eyes and let the orest talk tohim. Nothing. He opened one to see i anything had

changed. A large, brightly colored snake wound its

way up the trunk o an old, bent teak, using the trees

faking pale-gray bark or grip. The snake paused,

turning to look at him. Its tongue darted in and outo its mouth testing the air. Konowa closed his eyes

again and ocused his thoughts on the snake, but all

he sensed was how oolish he was or trying. He gave

up and sought out the trees themselves.

They were nothing like the lean, straight pines

and rs or thick and limb-heavy oaks he had known

as a child. Here, everything curved, rom the trunks

o the trees to the creatures and vines that crawled

over them. Even the leaves were dierent, some wideand fat, others garishly green and bitter to the taste.

He tried a new approach. Youre an el, he reminded

himsel, born o the natural world; youre supposed to be able

to do this. He slowed his breathing and willed his body


29/106


to relax, trying to let the orest inuse him with its

essence. Inuse? Essence? He shook his head. Thiswas pointless. Everything teemed with lie and all

had voices, yet he heard only noise, elt only chaos.

It had been the same the day he walked into the

birthing meadow to become an el o the Long

Watch. He remembered the mix o excitement andear as he entered the most sacred realm o the Hhar

Vir, the Deep Forest, seeking a sapling cub among the

tender green shoots to become his ryk aur, his bond

brother.

Let your spirit walk among them, and one shall call toyou, he was told, so he stayed in the meadow or ve

straight days without ood or water, waiting, hop-

ing. When the elves nally carried him out because

he was too weak to walk, no sapling cub had yet

called to him. The Wol Oaks, the very embodimento the natural world, had measured him, ound him

wanting, and rejected him. The thought still rankled.

Even the el-witch the elders told stories about to

scare wayward children had ound a sapling cub with

which to bond.

Knowing it was ruitless but trying anyway, he

now raised his arms high into the air and called again

to the trees around him. His only answer was a swarm

o gnats that few into his mouth. Exasperated andspitting bugs, Konowa lowered his arms and squirmed

inside the tattered and patched remnants o his uni-

orm. The Calahrian Imperial Army green had aded

to dirty white, and the knees and elbows sported


30/106


ill-sewn patches o black leather rom his knapsack.

His musket, however, was in perect condition. Helet his let hand brush against the stock and smiled at

the cold and lieless eel o wood and steel entwined.

The weapon would work i he kept his powder dry

and the moving parts oiled, not i he elt in tune

with it, as the oath weapons the Wol Oaks bestowedon their ryk aurelves required.

A rumbling growl made Konowa turn. Jir, his

companion o the last year, and probably the sole

reason Konowa had not gone stark, raving mad out

here, stood a oot away, having sneaked up on Konowawithout the el hearing a thing.

Youre better at this than me, he said, lightly

rapping the bengar between the eyes with his knuck-

les. Jir snorted and shook his woolly head, staring

up at him with big black eyes. Jir was larger than adyre wol, larger even than a tiger, sporting a coat o

short, midnight-black ur streaked through with dull

red stripes. His head eatured a stubby, well-whiskered

muzzle and a urry mantle o thick hair that ran hal-

way down his back. At the moment, he was marking

his territory, orcing Konowa to jump back a pace.

A swarm o black fies rose up rom Jirs back as his

long tail swished menacingly around his hindquarters.

When he was done, Jir padded over on our big paws,rubbing against him and purring a deep, contented

sound that made Konowas body vibrate.

They were quite a pair, Konowa mused, scratch-

ing the bengar behind the ears. The eel o Jirs coarse


31/106

A Da rkn e s s F o r g e d i n F i r e 2 7

ur reminded him o bark and he looked again at

the orest that had become his home. Cathedral lightell like shats o gold between the trunks as the sun

dipped below the tops o the trees. It was the kind o

moment his ather had urged him to commune with,

to nd his center and become one with the orest.

Konowa snorted. It was the kind o moment when hewanted a tankard o beer and a grilled sausage.

A light breeze sighed between the branches,

evaporating the sweat rom his orehead. Ater the

heat o the past two weeks, it was a welcome change

that would be even better once he and Jir were backin the hut with the door rmly in place. It was not

wise to be out in the open when the moon climbed

the sky.

Jir growled and shook his woolly head, indicating

hed had enough. Konowa lited his hand and movedo. Liting the stock o his musket out o the way,

he squatted with some diculty, his let knee twing-

ing in protest, a souvenir rom an orc lancer many

years beore. He grabbed a handul o dirt and sited

it through his hands, mimicking the actions o the

Hynta-elves hed watched all through his childhood

years. His hand tingled with the power o the natural

order, but he had no idea what to do with it. Konowa

shivered in spite o the heat, dropping the dirt as istung.

Lets go home, he said.

Jir stared at him with apparent disdain. Konowa

wasnt sure he didnt deserve it.


32/106


They walked or several minutes beore he ound

a tree that hed notched earlier that day with hissmall hunting hatchet. Cutting a tree was as much an

act o deance as an aid to navigation. The elves o

his tribe would have been appalled to see him deace

a tree with a steel ax, but they werent here to guide

him.Feeling smug, Konowa lengthened his stride. He

took one complete step and pitched orward into an

unseen hollow.

Yirka umno! Konowa swore as he ell. He landed

with a thud. As he lay there catching his breath, herealized with some surprise that hed used a tribal

curse, invoking summer lightning, the orests most

eared natural predator. Im going native, he thought,

pushing himsel up to his hands and knees. He roze

halway up, coming ace to rear with the hindquarterso one severely agitated skunk dragon.

Yirka! Konowa shouted, scrambling backward as

the awul-smelling re burst orth. He began to roll

and beat at the fames, all the while gagging on the

stench. Jir growled and wagged his tail uriously at

the little black dragon and was no help at all. Konowa

rolled and beat out the last o the oul-smelling

fames, cursing all the while. He staggered to his eet,

wielding his musket like a club, ready to dash the ani-mals brains onto the orest foor, but the dragon had

already scampered o. Finally running out o breath,

he leaned his musket against a tree, unstoppered his

canteen, and poured the contents over his head.


33/106


He stood like that or several seconds, his ace

dripping, his chest heaving, and his eyes dartingwildly rom side to side like an el possessed. When

the roar o blood in his ears quieted enough or him

to hear the perpetual hum o the orest, he fung the

canteen away. No sooner had he thrown it away and

watched it disappear among the trees than he realizedhed need it.

Konowa took stock o his situation. Aside rom

what elt like a bad case o sunburn, he was unin-

jured. His uniorm, however, was absolutely ruined.

He stripped o his cartridge pouch, shirt, boots andtrousers, leaving only his loincloth on as he gingerly

hopped rom oot to oot on the carpet o nettles

rom the bushlike tree he ound himsel under.

Ater a ew moments o that, Konowa decided

it was time to try something new. Thoughts o theclean, cool water by the hut spurred him to action.

Shooting a withering glance at Jir, he put his boots

back on ater careully brushing any clinging nettles

o his bare eet. Flies, gnats, and a dozen other bugs

he couldnt identiy were now buzzing about his

head, but none dared land; the stench o the skunk

dragon acting as the rst eective remedy hed ound

to keep them at bay. Picking up his musket, he hung

his soiled clothes and pouches rom the muzzle andrested the weapon on his shoulder.

What else can go wrong? he muttered, and

started to walk or home with Jir padding alongside

at a discreet distance.


34/106


The unmistakable sound o a tree alling carried in

the twilight, and or the brieest o moments, Konowasensed pain. It was gone so ast he wasnt sure it had

happened, but when he looked over at Jir he knew

something wasnt right. The bengar stood sti-legged,

his ears straight up, muzzle sning the air.

Its nothing, Konowa lied, and kept walking,anxious to outpace the smell that clung to him. The

light was ading quickly now, and he wanted to get

back to the hut beore it was completely dark. The

sound o the orest changed at night, a subtle, grad-

ual shit that crept up on the unsuspecting . . . alongwith things that made no sound at all.

Konowa turned to scold Jir to get a move on. The

bengar was gone.

Jir, he called sotly. Jir had excellent hearing, but

that wasnt why Konowa kept his voice lowthe oresthad gone silent. The constant hum o lie that surged

through the trees was absent, the orest was preter-

naturally still, as i time itsel had ceased to exist.

Not good, Konowa whispered to himsel as he

tipped the clothes rom his musket and began to load

the weapon, just to be sae.

Cradling the musket in ront o his body, Konowa

checked that the fint was still secure, then hal-cocked

the hammer as his old regiments collect sounded inhis ears.

Heavenly spirits, who watch over us . . .

He shed out a cartridge rom his pouch with

his right hand, bringing the waxed paper tube up to


35/106


his mouth in one practiced motion and biting the

end o.. . . guide us into battle and make sure our hand . . .

The gunpowder mixed with his saliva and he gri-

maced at its amiliar salty, bitter taste.

. . . that we might slay our enemy . . .

The weight o the small lead bullet pressedagainst his tongue, and he heard again the whip-

crack o regimental pennants unurled in a gusting

wind, the creaking timber o gun carriages, the whin-

nying o horses, the pounding o their hooves, and

the echoing barks o sergeants relaying their ocerscommands.

. . . destroy them as those that went beore us . . .

A tremor o anticipation coursed through

Konowas body.

. . . and keep our honored place as your aithul servants,

your harbingers o death. We are the warriors o the Hynta. We

ear nothing, or we are the Iron Elves!

Amen, Konowa said out loud, no longer alone.

He prepared the musket or ring to the cadence

o a sergeant long ago dead, killed by a swarm o

battle-crazed orcs in a land even more oreign than

this. Something cold and black touched Konowa

then, and he elt the presence o the lost souls o his

old regiment. He trickled a little gunpowder into thepan o the musket beore closing the hammer. Keep-

ing time with the past, he set the musket butt down

in ront o him and poured the remaining charge

down the barrel beore stung the lead ball and


36/106


nally the paper cartridge ater it. Without pause, he

pulled out the ramrod slung beneath the barrel romthe our brass pipes that held it in place and tamped

down the wadding and bullet, all the while scanning

the orest. He replaced the ramrod and brought the

musket up to his hip, imagining the bristling line o

soldiers to his let and right and drawing comortrom their stoic silence.

He nudged the cock all the way back, the chunk

o fint held in its steel jaws glinting with purpose. He

stood like that or several seconds, his hands grow-

ing slick on the wooden portions o the gun. All tooquickly the nostalgia o the past bled away, leaving

him alone again in a strange land very ar rom home.

Another sound came rom somewhere to his let

and Konowa moved toward it, allowing his senses to

guide his eet as he kept his eyes searching the shad-ows ahead. The stillness o the orest hung like a

veil rom the branches, and the longer he walked the

harder it seemed to push orward. He had decided he

would only walk another ty yards when he stepped

into a clearing, and what had only been an exception-

ally bad day became a waking nightmare.


37/106

F o U R

Not more than thirty yards away across the

clearing crouched our rakkes around a

allen tree.

Four seven-oot-tall, boulder-shouldered, black,

scraggly haired rakkes all staring at Konowa withmilky eyes deep-set in scarred, leathery aces.

But rakkes were extinct.

What Konowa was seeing was impossible, yet

he knew they were rakkes. Hed seen the drawings

on stretched hides handed down rom generation to

generation, heard the ancient tales, even held a skull

o one o the creatures in his hands. They had lived

high in the mountain, coming down like nightall to

ravage the land below. The elves o the Long Watchhad hunted them down and destroyed them. Centuries

ago, and an ocean away.

Yet all o that meant nothing now. Four rakkes

were only thirty yards away rom him. They stood up


38/106


as one, teetering slightly in this new bipedal stance,

like drunks one round away rom alling. Long, curv-ing claws slid out rom pawlike hands that hung

down by their knees.

The largest o them opened its mouth to reveal

long, yellow angs glistening with saliva. It screamed

a high, mewling cry and the other three responded inkind, shaking the orest foor.

It was a sound as cold and black as the depths o

time it should have been lost in.

Cawwnnnawahhhh . . .

Konowas chest heaved, his breath rushing out asorceully as i hed been hit with a cannonball.

The largest o the our rakkes had clearly said his

name. The creatures mouth contorted with the eort

as it struggled to pronounce it, its tongue more used

to moving around lacerated fesh than words.Cawwnnnawahhhh . . .

He should have run away. It was the sensible thing

to do.

Konowa red his musket, then ran straight at the

rakkes, screaming or all he was worth.

There was a loud crack, ollowed by a huge bil-

lowing cloud o acrid-smelling smoke fecked with

sparks as the musket bucked in his hands. The musket

ball passing through the chest o the rakke saying hisname with a wet thwack, blowing out chunks o eerily

white spine through the now gaping hole in its back.

Running hard, Konowa grabbed the musket by its

warm muzzle and swung the weapon in a smooth


39/106


arc at a second rakkes head. The musket struck fesh

and bone, jarring Konowas arms and shoulders andcutting o his yell as he bit his tongue. The closest

rakke went down whimpering, its skull crushed like

an eggshell, one white eye pulped and oozing down

its cheek. Konowa laughed then, a habit he had in

battle, tasting the salty liquid o his own blood in hismouth. He swung a low backstroke at another rakke,

eeling the satisying crunch o bones travel up the

musket and into his own.

A set o claws whistled by his head and Konowa

dove orward, ducking underneath. His right shoul-der slammed into the body o a rakke, and he pivoted

onto his heels and brought the muzzle o the musket

upward with all his strength.

The rakke screamed as the steel barrel slammed

into its stomach, but without a bayonet on its end themusket only enraged the beast. The rakke wrapped

both massive arms around Konowa and crushed him

to its chest. Konowa was lited o his eet and swung

wildly through the air as he desperately tried to let go

o the musket and reach or the hatchet strapped to

his cal. He heard a crackand a bolt o lightning

exploded in his chest as one o his ribs snapped. His

head growing lighter by the second, Konowa nally

pried his hands ree and reached or the hatchet. Hisngers crawled along his leg in a weakening search as

the grip around his chest tightened.

He ound the handle, only to have it drop rom his

ngers as he was physically pounded into the ground.


40/106


Konowas breath rushed out o him in a scream, and

he lay helpless on his back, waiting or the end tocome.

A pair o milky eyes came down to hover inches

rom his, and he could smell the putrid raw meat o

the rakkes last meal. Konowa smiled in one last act

o deance.Jagged white teeth fashed in ront o his eyes and

hot, steaming blood splashed across his ace.

When he ocused his vision again, all he could see

above him were stars. Konowa drew in a shuddering

breath and propped himsel up on one elbow.Jir held the rakke by the throat, shaking the mas-

sive beast like wheat in a storm. When Jir was satis-

ed it was dead, he opened his mouth, letting the

rakkes body all to the ground with a thump.

Three more dark orms dotted the clearing, andthe smell o blood and death thickened the air. Call-

ing on the last reserves o his strength, Konowa stag-

gered to his eet, using his musket as a crutch. Jir

looked up at him and bared his angs, a chunk o

rakke fesh hanging out the side o his mouth.

Easy, boy, Ill never be that hungry, he said, care-

ully sidestepping the eeding bengar to check that

the other three rakkes were once again extinct. The

large one that he had shot was clearly dead, the st-sized hole in its back already swarming with fies. He

could see the same was true o the second one he had

hit, and Jir was making a meal o the thirds innards.

That meant Jir must have also killed the ourth one.


41/106


Konowa looked around or the body, spying one

crumpled twenty yards away. He limped toward it,but immediately saw that something wasnt right.

As he got closer he realized it was an elkynan

woman. So where was the ourth rakke? He looked

back at Jir, but the bengar showed no sign o unease

as it ate. The ourth creature must have fed and neverlooked back.

Konowa let go o the musket and stumbled the

last ew eet to the womans side, kneeling careully

while still holding his aching ribs. The woman lay

acedown, dressed in huntsmans garb o toughenedlinen dyed brown and green. Like most o her people,

she had dark skin, darker even than Konowas. With

only starlight and his own elvish eyes, Konowa could

just make out the intricate pattern o tattoos that

adorned her arms. A single plait o long brown hairwith dull-looking bits o pearl woven in it snaked

down her back and lay in a coil on the ground. Brac-

ing himsel or what he would nd, he grabbed the

body by the shoulders and gently turned it over.

Only the ingrained reactions o a warrior saved

him as a thin stiletto dagger few up. Konowa jerked

orward so that the fat o her palm, and not the blade,

hit the side o his neck. Beore she could thrust again,

Konowa butted the top o his head into the side oher ace and rolled out o range.

A startled yell pierced the meadow and Jir growled

in surprise, liting his blood-stained muzzle into

the air, spewing bits o meat. Konowa ought to stay


42/106


conscious while he looked around or his musket.

He nally spotted it, but it was too ar away. Thewoman was already on her eet and advancing toward

him when she suddenly wobbled and sat straight

down, the stiletto tumbling rom her hand.

Konowas eyes went to the dagger. The blade

gleamed unnaturally under the starlight, and he real-ized it was polished wood, not unlike the oath weap-

ons o the Long Watch. He looked back at her and

waited a moment to see i dropping the dagger was

a ploy, but she just sat there, her eyes unocused. The

head butt must have done the trick ater all. Choos-ing caution as the better part o valor, he sat perectly

still and concentrated on regaining his breath. While

he did so, he studied the woman across rom him.

She was denitely no el. Konowa stared at her

alluring ace, drawn in by the almond-shaped eyes.He guessed she was no more than twenty, although

the elkynans exotic look meant matrons in their

ties could look much younger. Whatever her age,

her smooth, dark skin and ull lips were a wonderul

change ater having only Jirs urry ace to stare at.

And then there was the matter o her rather quick

refexes. Konowa tried to chuckle, the absurdity o

the day growing by the minute, but the eort sent

stabbing knives through his chest and he gave up.When the pain nally subsided to a more manage-

able level o agony, Konowa slowly stood. Speaking

Gharsi, the most common o the twenty-three lan-

guages spoken in Elkyna, Konowa hoped he could


43/106


make himsel understood. I dont want to hurt you,

he said, well, again, anyway. Each word was a sharpstitch in his rib cage.

The sound o his voice jarred her back to sensi-

bility and her eyes narrowed. She scooped the dag-

ger rom the ground in one swit motion. Konowa

remained still, hoping she didnt have the strength tocome at him again. He wasnt sure he had any let to

end her o i she did.

Who are you? she asked, answering in the com-

mon tongue o the Empire, marking her as educated.

She risked a quick glance around the meadow. Andwhat are those things?

My name is Konowa, he said, slowly lowering his

hands. Those things . . . are rakkes. Creatures perverted

by a dark magic. They were supposedly destroyed a long,

long time ago. Suspicion made him cautious, despitethe pain. Their master was an el-witch . . .

Her eyes narrowed. I saw no el-witch, she said

coldly. She looked over at the dead rakkes scattered

about the clearing. So why are these things here,

now?

Konowa stared at her or a long moment beore

answering, trying to gauge her sincerity. He nally

decided she wasnt responsible or them . . . though

he hoped his reasoning went deeper than his immedi-ate attraction to her. I couldnt begin to guess, he

lied, reusing to contemplate why and how one o

them called his name. They shouldnt be. Theyre

supposed to be extinct.


44/106


So you keep saying, she said, the skepticism in

her voice plain.Well, i somethings extinct it should bloody

well stay extinct, right? Konowa said, suddenly exas-

perated by it all.

She opened her mouth to say something else, then

paused, looking at him with renewed interest.Your name again?

Konowa, he said, eeling a sudden sense o dread.

Colonel Konowa Heer Ul-Osveen o the Iron

Elves?

I blood could reeze in this steaming cauldron oa land, Konowas did. Only minutes ago hed thought

his past was as dead as rakkes were supposed to be.

She looked up at him with eyes as green as the

orest around him, and he saw his doom in them.

The slayer o the Viceroy? she asked again,nally sheathing her stiletto and rising slowly to her

eet.

Among others, he said, sinking to the orest

foor.

She walked over and looked down at him. Ive

been looking or you.

She took a deep breath, brushed a strand o hair

rom her eyes, and rom within the hunting jacket

she wore pulled a thin paper scroll bearing a largewax seal, which she expertly broke with a ngernail.

Konowa closed his eyes and prayed or deliverance.

Konowa Heer Ul-Osveen, by royal decree as duti-

ully witnessed this day in the Greater Protectorate


45/106


o Elkyna o the Calahrian Empire, you are hereby

ordered to resume your commission as an ocer inHer Majestys Imperial Army eective immediately.

Oh, and sir, she continued, a look o concern cross-

ing her ace, I strongly suggest that at the rst oppor-

tunity, you take a bath and put some clothes on. Your

time o communing with nature is at an end.Konowa sighed. I anything was to deliver him

rom this ate, it was probably out lost in the bloody

orest.


46/106

F I V e

No.

She let the scroll roll up with a snap

and kicked a nettle with her oot, send-

ing it bouncing toward Konowa and orcing him to

turn over onto his side. He winced with pain as tinyfashes o light popped and winked beore his eyes.

Despite the resh reminder o his ravaged rib cage,

he noticed or the rst time that she wore delicate-

looking sandals o woven green grass revealing por-

tions o her slender brown eet. She couldnt have walked

ar at all in those, he realized.

You will report to the nearest encampment at

once, she said as i speaking to a slightly dull child.

Besides, well be saer with the army than out here inthe orest with those extinctcreatures around.

He ignored the bait, ocusing instead on the act

that there was no tremble in her voice, no hint o

ear at all. Not even the sound o a bone snapping


47/106


fustered her as Jir tore through a rakkes pelvis. Per-

haps, he conceded, what they say about women is true: Theyare tougher.

Is the army near? Konowa asked.

They were three days by horse to the south, on

the other side o the Jhubbuvore, she said, naming a

river Konowa vaguely remembered crossing years ear-lier. But that was over a week ago. Where they are

now I do not know. We should start at onceyou

are clearly in no condition to ght o any more o

those beasts.

A tree cracked just outside the clearing.Konowa jumped to his eet so ast it elt as i he

broke another rib. He stumbled to his musket and

picked it up, spinning in a slow circle as he searched

the edges o the clearing. Jir raised his muzzle rom

the inside o a rakke and growled in response.What is it? the woman whispered, the wicked-

looking dagger magically reappearing in her right

hand.

There were our rakkes, Konowa said, pointing

the muzzle o the musket at the bodies, but we only

killed three.

Surely your bengar killed it somewhere nearby,

the woman said, gesturing at Jir, who was looking

questioningly at Konowa.Turning to Jir, Konowa made a clenched st then

threw his arm out and opened his hand wide. Hunt,

he commanded. The animal rumbled a deep sound

and disappeared into the orest in a single bound.


48/106


Will he nd it? she asked, coming to stand next

to Konowa even as she wrinkled her nose.Konowa kept his eyes on the trees, but was very

aware o her presence beside him. Heat roiled o her

like the open door o a smithys urnace. Then again,

it might have been the pain o his rib cage.

Maybe, maybe not. I that thing didnt lookback it could be a long way rom here. He spotted

his cartridge pouch on the ground and walked over to

it, deciding hed better reload while he could.

Youre not like any messenger Ive ever seen

beore, he remarked while gingerly ramming a newcharge and ball into the musket.

The womans eyes narrowed and the stiletto

fashed as she twirled it in her hand.

Messenger? I am Visyna Tekoy, daughter o

Almak Tekoy, governor o Hijlla Province and sup-plier to Her Majestys Imperial Army and the Outer

Territories Trading Company in these lands.

Ah, so your athers a sutler then?

A sutler! Do I look like the daughter o some rag

and bone merchant?

Konowa took a quick moment to run his eyes

over her again. Indeed you dont. Well, now, seeing

as weve established how your ather supports Her

Majestys troops, air lady, pray tell in what mannerdo you service them?

Visynas retort remained unspoken as Jir suddenly

leaped back into the clearing. He snied the air or

a moment and stretched, sheathing and unsheathing


49/106


great curving claws that refected the starlight with

lethal intent. When he was nished he walked over towhere they were standing and lited a hind leg.

Visyna yelled in protest, quickly stepping out o

the way and into Konowas arms.

It means he likes you, he said. He reached over

and patted Jir on the head. The bengar began topurr and Konowa relaxed; the ourth rakke was long

gone.

Its disgusting, she retorted.

Konowa nodded and took a deep breath o her

dark hair, grimacing with the eort. He imagined itwas wonderully perumed, but the lingering odor

o the skunk dragon and Jirs enthusiastic attempts

to make hal the known lands his own deeated the

exercise.

I think you can let go now, she said. Your mus-ket is digging into me.

Thats not my musket, Konowa replied, bran-

dishing the weapon in his right hand in ront o her

while he kept his let around her waist. He pulled her

a little closer. You know, I did save your lie tonight.

In some parts, that sort o thing engenders a certain

amount o . . . gratitude.

Visyna stilled at the suggestion. Shes not so high and

mighty ater all, Konowa thought, suddenly concernedthat she might actually take him up on what had been

no more than a blu. A year in the orest or not, he

was in no condition or that. Visyna turned around

in his arm and aced him, her lips only inches rom


50/106


his. He was still wondering what theyd taste like

when her st slammed into his stomach, sitting himsquarely on his backside.

You lthy pig! I am no harlot! And you, sir, are

no ocer.

Tears streamed down Konowas ace as he gasped

or breath and then he laughed, despite the pain.Youre right there, mlady. Im no ocer, not

anymore. He picked himsel up rom the ground or

the second time that night. He hurt rom head to toe

and suddenly there was nothing even remotely unny

about anything. You take that piece o parchmentwith you the next time you use the powder room,

because thats all its good or. The el on that scroll

no longer exists.

You really are him, arent you, Visyna said qui-

etly. You were the one who killed the Viceroy to saveyour people, and ours. She reached out a hand to

touch his ruined let ear, but Konowa pulled away.

You think Im a hero? Do heroes end up exiled in

a bloody orest? No, my lady, you have it all wrong. I

am one o the dyskara, the tainted ones marked by the

Shadow Monarch. Just good enough to ght or the

Empire, but never, ever to be trusted. A year o bit-

ter resentment fared up. Be araid, my lady. Molten

ore fows through my veins and daisies are poisonto me. I live in caves like dwarven olk and eat raw

meat o the bone. He ignored her crossed arms and

scrunched-up nose and pressed on, needing to vent

his anger at someone. You see beore you a spiri-


51/106


tual descendant o the Shadow Monarch, the Horra

Rikaoath breaker, the orsaker o the orest, delvero the deep magic long ago lost to this world. Fear

me, O pure and righteous one. I was marked by Her,

ruler o the High Forest where trees grow in unnatu-

ral and vile ways, and elves have little patience or

asinine conversations.Jarahta Mysor! she yelled, swinging back her hand

as i to slap him.

Easy there, my lady, no need or that kind o lan-

guage. As ast as the anger had come, it bled away. He

tried a smile, but she wasnt having it. You have no ideawhat its like to suer under the oolishness o myths

and legends. I let the Hyntaland to get away rom all

o that, but it ollows me around like a plague.

Myths and legends? she asked, shaking her

head. They dont look like either, she said, pointingto the dead rakkes.

No, they dont, but it doesnt matter. You wouldnt

understand.

Really now? Visyna said, her voice sharp, her

eyes fashing. The story o the el-witch across the

ocean is well known even here. The Empire brought

more than oppression to my people, it also brought

stories o the Zargul Iraxa, as we call Her, Seeker o

the Darkness. She appeared to struggle or controlo hersel, then spoke again in a quieter voice. Your

ancestors orged a bond with the Wol Oaks. They

learned to harness the Wol Oaks great power, using

it to care or the natural order.


52/106


I know the legend, Konowa said, sighing.

Have you seen this orest realm o the ShadowMonarch?

Konowa careully let out a breath in exasperation.

No, I mean, yes, but its just a bunch o trees.

You went up there, then?

Konowa wanted to say yes to end this conversa-tion, but looking into her eyes he ound himsel sud-

denly unable to lie. No, no one goes up there, but

that doesnt mean the legend is true . . . entirely.

Visyna made a ace then looked back at the rak-

kes. And these creatures?I honestly dont know, Konowa said, realizing

just how true that was. How did they know his name?

Maybe She did send them ater me, or, he said, sus-

picion faring in his mind, maybe She sent them

ater someone else.Visynas mouth ormed a perect O. Me? Youre

mad. Clearly, some elves can be in the orest too

long.

He took a step toward her. My senses are clear

enough to know something here doesnt make sense.

How is it you just happen to have a scroll calling me

back to service?

There are those who believe you can be o ser-

vice again. Many o my people consider you a heroor what you did, she said, a note o admiration

grudgingly modulating her voice.

That still doesnt explain you.


53/106


Visyna looked as i she might take a swing at him,

then relaxed. Despite what you think, elves arentthe only people in tune with the natural world. I

have . . . a git, or nding things, so I was sent out to

look or you.

Alone? Konowa asked, reusing to believe any

o this.Not alone, she said quietly, lowering her eyes.

We were attacked by those things and I was cap-

tured, and you know the rest.

Konowa was certain that he didnt, not by a long

cannon shot, but he decided to leave it alone or themoment.

By the way, what did you call me there a moment

ago? I havent heard that one beore.

Visyna pursed her lips. Jarahta Mysor. It means

bloodless shadow.Konowa shrugged.

A being without soul, she said, an el not o the

natural world. You carry weapons orged in re, were

marked by Her, and serve the Empire that oppresses

my people. You have orsaken your destiny and have

turned your back on the ruarmana.

Konowa gave her a questioning look.

Trees. They are the bridge between the sky and

earth. Only trees reach both up to the heavens and downinto the bones o the land. Visyna brushed another

strand o hair rom her ace and stared at him with

intense curiosity. What isyournative name or them?


54/106


Lumber.

Visynas eyes fashed with anger. You are moreiron than el !

He held up his hands or a truce. Look, as scin-

tillating as our conversation is, perhaps we could save

it or another time? The pain in his ribs was now a

steady throbbing that threatened to pound him rightinto the ground. Who knows what other beasties

besides rakkes are out here, and I dont want to be

around when they smell all this.

Visyna looked as i she wanted to say a lot more,

but held her tongue and began to pick up Konowasbelongings rom the ground, careul to avoid any

made o metal.

Konowa watched or a moment, then put the rem-

nants o his uniorm back on, grabbed those items

she wouldnt touch, and tramped straight into theorest without looking to see i she would ollow.

He knew Jir would come along when he was done

eating.

Ater several minutes he took a quick look over his

shoulder and was surprised to see her only a couple

o paces behind him. She moved with the assuredness

o an el o the Long Watch. Konowa wondered just

what would make a woman so clearly enamored o

nature serve the Empire, the largest single destructiveorce in the world. He chose not to dwell on his own

reasons; he was in enough pain as it was.

It didnt take long or Konowa to realize he was

hopelessly lost. Chances o nding his hut tonight


55/106


were as remote as the chances o his guring out just

where this day had gone so terribly, horribly wrong.Only this morning he had had the orest to himsel,

with just Jir and the damn bugs or company.

Now he didnt know what to think about any-

thing.

The reappearance o extinct creatures, Her extinctcreatures, speaking ones name, along with a royal

decree also with ones name, had a way o changing

ones outlook on lie.

Looking back to see that Visyna was still close

behind, he pushed on through the trees, holding hisribs and cursing each step. He consoled himsel that

i this was the worst lie could throw at him, things

could only get better rom here.

Konowa chose to believe that lie or as long as he

could. He succeeded or an entire day.


56/106

s I X

Now dont tell me you didnt see that,

Private Yimt Arkhorn whispered, peering

into the night rom around the trunk o a

bulbous wahatti tree. Fat, broad leaves like the ends

o paddles hung down rom the wahattis branches,providing perect cover.

I cant see my hand in ront o my ace, Pri-

vate Alwyn Renwar said, eeling in the dirt or his

spectacles, once again cursing his decision to join the

Imperial Army. Deemed marginal or rontline duty,

Renwar had been unceremoniously transerred to

about the arthest-fung outpost one could draw

the Protectorate o Greater Elkyna. As i that wasnt

bad enough, when he got there he ound he had beenassigned to one o the rear-echelon guard battalions,

with the noble task o watching over the wagon trains

o the Outer Territories Trading Company. The ood


57/106


was terrible, the discipline erocious, the duty alter-

nating between long stretches o numbing boredomand short, sharp bits o sheer terror (like now), and

women most certainly did not fock to his side.

Alwyn despised the army, all three months o it

so ar. He was thousands o miles rom home, sweaty,

miserable, and scared, and partnered with o all peo-ple a dwar who appeared to be a couple o batwings

short o a potion.

I never should have taken the Queens gold,

Alwyn muttered, the enlistment coin long since spent,

on what he couldnt remember.Quit your nattering and look, Yimt ordered,

spitting a stream o crute juice onto the ground. The

rock spice made a sizzling sound as it bubbled on the

dirt. Its a shadowy thing, real big like.

I still cant nd my specs.You dont need specs to see it. Its a sight bigger

than Her Majestys twin jewels and the cushion she

rests them on, Yimt said with a lecherous grin.

I shouldnt even be here, Alwyn said, patting the

ground rantically. Piquet duty or a month and or

what? I didnt do anything. Youre the one that acci-

dentally bayoneted then cooked andate the ocers

goose. All I had was a drumstick.

Quit your griping, Ally, Yimt said. Squadmates got to stick together. An like I told that ocer,

that goose o his came at me with a right wicked look

in its eye. I was deending mysel, I was.


58/106


Theyll write you up in a dispatch or bravery

uncommon, Alwyn said, now scrambling around onall ours.

My mum would like that. Here, Yimt said,

shaking his head in disgust, its or certain there aint

no elves in your amily tree, with the pair o eyeballs

you got. He reached out a thick-ngered hand andpushed a lea to the side. The thing is right there,

seventy paces and no more. Have a swig o this drake

sweat and take another look.

Alwyn put his hand down and elt his spec-

tacles . . . covered in gritty crute juice. He quicklybued the lenses against his coat sleeve beore the

crute ruined them and put them on, staring with

some trepidation at the proered canteen.

The canteen was typical army issue, made o wood

in the shape o a small drum, a large cork stopper atthe top. What wasnt typical was that it appeared to

be glowing.

Go on then, itll clear up your sight right

proper, Yimt encouraged, shaking the canteen in

ront o Alwyns ace. Drops o the liquid sloshed

out and hissed when they hit the ground. The sound

reminded Alwyn o a snake and a new, horriying

thought occurred to him.

You checked that we werent over a viper nest,right? Alwyn asked, his bowels clenching. He still

woke up shaking sometimes, remembering the writh-

ing mass o slick, black snakes that had come boil-


59/106


ing out o a hole Yimt had assured him would serve

perectly well as a latrine.Its a wild land; you never know whats around

the next tree, or down the next hole, Yimt said, still

holding out the canteen. You heard the news crier

this morning . . . all that talk by the new Viceroy

about the Empire shining the light o civility amongthe heathen. Thats like taking a lit match into a pow-

der room, and guess who theyll be sending.

Alwyn didnt know what to think. A rider in

the employ o the Imperial Weekly Herald had come

into their camp on the outskirts o Port Ghamjaljust that morning, usually a cause or celebration

because it meant news rom home. This time had

been dierent, however, the crier speaking in high,

fowery language with veiled reerences to things

Alwyn couldnt begin to understand, and none oit sounded good.

You think the new Viceroy is up to something?

Alwyn asked, still staring at the canteen. Ater all the

problems with that el they had beore, I gured this

one would calm things down.

Ah, the naheeviteh o youth, Yimt said, shak-

ing his head. Things have been calm. There aint a

war going on anywhere, leastways not any big ones.

Let me tell you, lad, Ill take peace and boredom anyday.

But you dont think anything really bad is going

to happen, do you? Alwyn asked.


60/106


Yimts voice became grave. Something bad

always happens. The trick is being as ar away rom itas possible when it does. You stick with me and youll

be ne.

It was the closest to logic he was likely to get. Alwyn

made the sign o the moon and stars, took the canteen

rom Yimt, brought it to his lips, and took a sip.Ack . . . ack, was all he could say or several

seconds ater the burning liquid roared down his

throat.

Flower snier, Yimt said, taking the canteen

back and pouring a healthy dose o the stu downhis own throat without even swallowing. Have

another look then.

Alwyn elt as i the top o his head had been

removed and molten lead poured straight into his

stomach, but his vision did seem clearer. He inchedhis way around the other side o the tree and poked

his head through the leaves. What, that big thing by

the ence?

Thats one o them water bualoes. Mercy, how

many times did they drop you as a baby? Look to

your let, there, see the shadow?

Alwyn strained his eyes and thought maybe he

did see something, but he couldnt tell what. Blast

his eyes. He took o his spectacles and rubbed thelenses on his jacket some more then put them back

on. Right, I see it now. By the third post.

By the quack in a ducks bill, you ound it. All

right, on the count o ve well shoot, Yimt said,


61/106


pulling back the heavy iron lever on his shatterbow, a

two-and-a-hal-oot-long crossbow with two musketbarrels side by side. Each barrel was easily twice the

diameter o a regular musket and red an iron dart

the size o a grown mans thumb. As i that wasnt

destructive enough, each dart was lled with gun-

powder and a tiny use that was lit when the shatter-bow red, in essence making each projectile a small

cannon shell.

The dwar grunted and let out a deep breath as he

levered back the steel-reinorced wooden bow located

halway down the barrels. Alwyn edged away, hopingall the while that Yimt knew what he was doing.

What, were just gonna shoot? Alwyn asked, his

voice rising to a squeak. Hed heard about Yimt rom

other soldiers. The Little Mad One. Hed been in the

army most o his lie, starting out as a boy drum-mer at the age o thirteen. Back then, long beore

Alwyn was born, that was about the only way a dwar

could join the Imperial Army, that or the engineers,

the artillery, or a fint knapper. And here it was today

and Yimt was still only a private. Alwyn was begin-

ning to see why.

What i its an ocer out checking the piquets?

Alwyn asked.

Good point. Well shoot on three. Yimt broughthis shatterbow up to his shoulder and took aim.

Hang on, my musket isnt loaded, Alwyn whis-

pered uriously, shing or a cartridge in his pouch.

You really think its an ocer?


62/106


Yimt turned and made a ace at Al

Exclusive - Read the first 100 pages of A DARKNESS FORGED IN FIRE

Documents

Transcript of Exclusive - Read the first 100 pages of A DARKNESS FORGED IN FIRE