The Light of Burning Shadows (18 page)

Konowa spotted Color Sergeant Aguom nearby talking with other soldiers and motioned for him to come over. The sergeant did so at once.

“From your homeland?” Konowa asked, pointing to the soldiers of the 3rd Spears.

“They are from an island nearby mine, but our tribes are friendly,” Sergeant Aguom said.

“Why aren’t they with their regiment?”

“They came here last night escorting carriages. They were supposed to return to their camp down by the docks this morning, but with this crowd, they can’t get through without a fight.”

“Just as well. Fine, tell them to stay here and wait for orders. I’m sure things will calm down. They can wait it out here when we leave for the desert.”

“They want to come with us.”

Konowa waved his hand. “Their colonel would not be thrilled to know we’d absconded with fifty of his men.”

Sergeant Aguom wasn’t to be deterred. “The want to see the Star, Major. They want to be there when it returns. They heard the stories about Luuguth Jor and they want to see this one.”

“At potential risk to their lives? Why?”

“Our legends talk of a Star of Knowledge guiding the elders of our islands many centuries ago. They want to see with their own eyes if this one is real. If it is, then there is hope for my people, too,” Sergeant Aguom said, his voice dropping away as the full meaning of the words registered.

“Would your people rebel?” Konowa asked. The world kept shifting under his feet. He was finally starting to comprehend just how widespread the desire to be rid of the Empire really was.

“They simply want to chart their own course in the world. The Stars offer that chance. What people would refuse such a gift?”

Konowa shook his head. “You know it’s real. You were at Luuguth Jor. Tell them.”

“I did,” the sergeant said, “and it has only made them more determined to come with us.” He paused for a moment as if considering how to say the next sentence. “They are willing to take the Blood Oath to join us.”

Konowa wasn’t sure he’d heard that right. “They what?”

“They’ll take the oath. They are brave warriors. For them, there is great honor in sacrifice. They see that the Iron Elves are losing soldiers, and no new recruits are coming. And they know that where you are, the Star will fall.”

“I admire their spirit, but this isn’t the time. Thank them for the offer, but tell them no.” Konowa saluted and waited for the sergeant to do the same.

Color Sergeant Aguom stood his ground. “If this costs me my stripes, then so be it. Sir, if they are refused, they will desert their regiment and follow us anyway. They see it as…their destiny.”

“Their destiny? How in blazes did they come to that conclusion? If they hadn’t noticed, this regiment is called the Iron Elves.
Elves!
This is my regiment, and when I find my elves everything will be right again.” Blood pounded in Konowa’s ears. “How dare they presume to claim this as their destiny.”

“Your
elves
stand all around you, sir. An Iron Elf stands in front of you now…or am I less a soldier in your eyes because my ears do not have points?”

A cold, black anger welled up in Konowa. In the back of his mind, he heard his mother and Visyna pleading with him. This was not the way.

But in an even deeper place inside himself he heard Her voice.

She understood.

The Shadow Monarch knew the importance of the elves. She fully realized the bond Konowa felt with them.

With an effort that caused him to grit his teeth, Konowa pushed the anger back down. Lightheaded, he swayed on his feet. Wiping some sweat from his eyes, he looked again at Color Sergeant Aguom. “Sergeant, you have my apologies.
Every
soldier matters to me. Every single one. If these men want to join us and see the return of a Star, I will not stand in their way. I’ll handle it with the Prince that there are no repercussions. But understand this: I will
not
administer the oath to them. They can come with us, fight alongside us, and chase whatever glory and honor they desire, but I will not subject them to the oath. Is that clear?”

Sergeant Aguom beamed. “I thank you, on behalf of all of them. They will not let you down, sir.” He saluted, and without waiting for Konowa to return it, turned and ran over to the waiting soldiers. A loud cheer broke out a moment later.

Konowa shook his head. The Prince approached, looking at maps held by two corporals who were walking backward so the Prince could study the terrain as he walked. He looked up when he heard the commotion and, dismissing the map carriers, came back over to Konowa.

“I shouldn’t think there’s much to cheer about,” the Prince said, tapping his sword scabbard against the top of his leather riding boot.

“I didn’t think so either, but apparently they’re eager to get out of the city,” Konowa said, choosing not to reveal the real reason. “They’ve volunteered to come with us into the desert.”

Konowa waited, wondering if the Prince would see this as an affront to his authority or a boost to his ego.

“They volunteered to serve directly under me, knowing we’re almost certainly going into battle?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what they did.”

Prince Tykkin drew in a breath and stood up a little straighter. He drew his sword from its scabbard, lifted it into the air, and turned to the soldiers of the 3rd Spears.
“Well done, lads!”

The soldiers cheered in response, breaking out in a war chant in their native tongue. Spears and muskets were raised in the air. Several soldiers of the Iron Elves standing nearby looked at them with varying degrees of confusion and annoyance.

Konowa noticed that at the sound of raised voices from the 3rd Spears, the growing crowd outside the palace grew silent. He looked through the palace gate and was amazed to see the citizens of Nazalla leaving in a hurry. The reputation of the warriors of the Timolia Islands was clearly known even here.

“Best we get moving, sir, while we can,” Konowa said.

The Prince lowered his sword and resheathed it, his face aglow. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Still, I think we’ll let them enjoy this moment a little longer. Who knows what the day brings? We’ll be hard-pressed to make it out of Nazalla in one piece, let alone get through the desert.”

The tone in the Prince’s voice suggested otherwise, which meant he must have worked something out. “Sir? Do you have a plan to get us out of the city without having to go to war with the civilians in it?”

“My proclamation was clear enough,” the Prince said.

Konowa’s heart raced. “Sir, they’re civilians. It’d be a slaughter. There has to be another way.”

The Prince looked at Konowa as a mother would, comforting her child. Konowa’s stomach churned.

“There is, Major, there is. Come now, you don’t think I’d really send the regiment out to murder innocents, now do you?”

Konowa didn’t trust himself to answer. Luckily, the Prince made the question rhetorical as he kept talking.

“Not to fret, Major,” the Prince said, “I’ve already negotiated our safe passage. Get the regiment formed up, we’re moving out in ten minutes.” Then the Prince did the most unexpected thing. He smiled at Konowa, reached out, and punched Konowa good-naturedly in the shoulder before turning and walking away.

Konowa stood rooted to the spot for several seconds. “What the devil was that all about?”

“The devil, you say?” said the Suljak of the Hasshugeb Expanse, appearing at Konowa’s side. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”

Konowa looked down at the old man. “You’re helping us?”

The Suljak looked surprised. “I’ve been presented with a golden opportunity to escort the Iron Elves out of Nazalla and deep into the heart of the desert, and all without further risk to the lives of the local populace. Why wouldn’t I help?”

Konowa wasn’t as gullible as the Prince…he hoped. “Because you’ll have ensured that we have a force ready to sweep in and claim the Star, that’s why.”

With the U formed by finger and thumb the Suljak stroked either side of his mouth as if in deep thought. “A conundrum, to be sure. Still, better to throw the viper from your home and then worry about it outside your door, no?”

Konowa started to nod, then stopped. “Wait, you said escort the Iron Elves. What about the other regiments?”

“There are limits to my powers of suggestion,” the Suljak said. “I can ensure the safe passage of the Iron Elves, as I ride with them, but I cannot do so for the others, spread out as they are around the city and by the docks. It will take some time for them to swing round the city to follow us, and time,” the Suljak said, looking up to the sky, “is most definitely not going to wait for man or elf.”

“Or Star,” Konowa added, looking up as well.

The Suljak patted Konowa on the arm. “Indeed, my dear Major, I believe it should be a most interesting trip.”

A
lwyn sat on top of the canvas-covered rear of Rallie’s wagon along with the rest of the section. Each man looked out in a different direction, muskets loaded and at the ready. Alwyn faced the rear, watching the lights of Nazalla dwindle in the distance.

Events of the last few hours played through his mind in a never-ending loop. He had called forth the shades and they had followed his orders.

But then they had killed those innocent people. He hadn’t wanted that. The shades had to know he hadn’t meant for that to happen, but they did it anyway.

“You should put your head down for a bit,” Yimt said, turning around from the front bench to look back at Alwyn.

“I’m fine—I just can’t get what happened out of my head.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ally. Those people were balancing all day twixt giving us a kiss on the cheek versus a pitchfork in the arse, and the pitchfork mentality won. Once a mob starts doing your thinking, it’s all over but the killing. The Darkly Departed were doing what soldiers are trained to do. If they hadn’t, we probably wouldn’t be here now.”

“Do you really believe that? Do you really think they were just being soldiers…like us?” Alwyn asked.

Yimt looked at him for a long time before replying. “I hope so,” he said. “Now, get some shut-eye.”

Alwyn yawned, surprised that he could feel so tired even being this unsettled, but then he realized he hadn’t slept at all last night. The rocking motion of the wheels over the roadway they followed was lulling him to sleep. He shook his head and stretched his arms. He set his musket down on the canvas and twisted his wooden leg to a more comfortable angle. It still hurt. He knew Zwitty had some of that tobacco from the hookah back at the Blue Scorpion, but decided to wait to ask him for some later. So far it was the one thing that eased the pain of his stump.

The wagon groaned in protest as its wheels hit a pothole, jostling everyone and everything on board. Alwyn yawned again and peered back along their path. A misty veil of dust hung behind them, obscuring Nazalla even more. He turned and looked out over the desert. Dawn was infusing the grays and blacks of the dunes with deep red. He felt his mood lift slightly as shadow gave way to shape, despite the fact that they were heading into the unknown.

He twisted around farther to see if he could actually make out anything ahead of them. Miss Red Owl and Miss Tekoy were riding the lead brindos. They had said they were doing so to better follow Tyul’s path into the desert, but he suspected it was in part to get farther away from him. He didn’t blame them—the other soldiers had given him as wide a berth since their escape into the desert.

Alwyn wondered again if this was the right thing to do, and was happy the decision hadn’t been up to him. Chasing after Tyul and Jurwan without the regiment seemed foolhardy, especially when both elves were not right in the head. Zwitty muttered something about how the two elves were probably out gathering nuts, but a look from Yimt had shut him up. In the end, it hadn’t really mattered, because they would have been torn apart by the citizens of Nazalla if they’d tried to get back to the Viceroy’s palace…or the shades would have slaughtered the crowd.

Even if they could have made it through the crowds unscathed and back to the palace—and without having to murder innocents to do it—Sergeant Arkhorn was not about to let the three ladies head out into the desert unescorted. So here they were, once again the shiny tip of the Calahrian Empire’s bayonet leading the way into trouble.

Sighing and yawning at the same time, Alwyn finally raised his head and looked up at the lightening sky. Every time he did, he dreaded what he might see. The path to the Red Star in Luuguth Jor had been—at some level—something hopeful. There had been a chance to break the oath and free themselves of the Shadow Monarch’s pull. But then the fighting began, the endless carnage. Now another Star would fall, and everyone—the Empire, the Shadow Monarch, maybe even Kaman Rhal himself—would butcher each other to claim it.

Alwyn lowered his head and turned again toward the front of the wagon as he caught bits of conversation between Yimt and Rallie. They were discussing old family recipes that Alwyn did his best not to overhear. Merely the sound of some of the ingredients made his stomach roil.

“I think I’ll try to catch up on some of that sleep now, Sergeant,” Alwyn said. He reached out with the butt of his musket to nudge Yimt.

“What? Sure, Ally,” Yimt said, reaching out a hand and patting his hand. “Rest those peepers. You’ve had a busy night.” He raised his voice as he addressed the other soldiers. “Same goes for the lot of you. Get your heads down while you can. I imagine we won’t be getting much sleep when we get where we’re going.”

“Thanks,” Alwyn said, as Yimt went back to chatting with Rallie. The rest of the section tried to get comfortable on top of the wagon as best they could. Not surprisingly, no one had tried to venture inside where Jir and the sreexes were.

Alwyn lay his head down and closed his eyes.

The first rays of the sun beat down upon his face as the vision of a Star filled his dreams.

He opened his eyes a moment later to find he was standing on top of a mountain.

His natural reaction was to bring his musket to the ready, even though he knew this was still a dream. He’d been to the Shadow Monarch’s domain before in this state, but this was different. The Wolf Oaks here grew tall and proud, their limbs gently curved as they lifted great leafy crowns skyward in a brilliant, blue sky. An elf walked among the trees, her hand gently brushing the trunks as she passed. She wore a long, flowing dress of red. She looked as young as Alwyn, and she was beautiful, her blond hair draping over her shoulders. And she looked familiar.

He walked toward her, aware that he was still dressed in his uniform. He started to sling his musket over his shoulder, but something made him keep it in both hands, though he couldn’t see why. Birds chirped gaily among the leaves and the air was warm and inviting.

“Hello,” he said, still at some distance, lest he frighten her.

The elf turned and smiled at him. Alwyn smiled back. “I know you, don’t I? I haven’t met many elves, but for the life of me, I can’t place you.”

“You know me, Alywn Renwar, and I know you.”

Alwyn almost fired his musket at the sound of Her voice. He looked around wildly, expecting rakkes to come charging at him from between the trees. Instead, a gentle breeze ruffled the tops of mountain flowers and a butterfly wobbled through the air to land on the end of his musket.

“Do not be afraid. I only wished you to see my realm as it will be,”
the Shadow Monarch said.

She continued to smile at Alwyn, tossing her long blonde tresses in a way that reminded him of Nafeesah. “No, you want to destroy everything.”

Her face darkened, and in an instant, so did the sky. The breeze grew into a cold wind, tearing the wings from the butterfly perched on his musket, which fell to the ground to flop helplessly in the dirt. A moment later She smiled, bringing the warm, sunny day again to the mountaintop.
“I want to set things right. Do you not see? There is much that is wrong with the world. Its people make war against each other. They kill, they desecrate nature. I want peace, Alwyn. I want things to be the way they were meant…to be.”

“What about the rakkes, and the dark elves? The blood trees?” He kept looking around, still expecting an attack at any moment. “What about us?
Why us?”

“I mean you no harm, truly,”
She said.
“My desire has only ever been to right the wrongs that have been done. I want to heal that which is wounded and return that which was lost.”
As She spoke, black ichor bubbled to the surface of the small clearing, forming a pool. She waved a hand across it and the surface changed, showing Alwyn scene after scene of death and destruction. None of them were by Her hand.

“I was at Luuguth Jor. I’ve been to the islands. You can’t fool me,” Alwyn said.

“Change is painful, Alwyn, but it is necessary. Look at what you hold in your hands. Is a death by your weapon any less a death?”

Alwyn shook his head, trying to clear it. This wasn’t what he had expected. Her arguments had a logic to them Alwyn couldn’t deny. “Please, I just want to be left alone. I want this to be over.”

The Shadow Monarch smiled. The mountaintop grew cold and darkness fell. Color bled from the world, leaving shades of gray pierced through with black. Freezing rain began to fall, each drop a crystal shard of ice. The wind scoured the ground, ripping away the grass and flowers and exposing the rock beneath. The Wolf Oaks twisted into
sarka har,
and shadows of dark creatures ringed the forest.
“Come Alwyn, and let me show you how.”
She reached out a hand.

Alwyn stared at it for what felt like an eternity, then reached out his hand. Shadow enveloped them both and Alwyn saw a way for the pain to end.

Despite every instinct in his body screaming this was a mistake, Konowa slung his musket over his shoulder and climbed into the saddle strapped to the camel. The smell of the beast almost had him vaulting right back off. Nothing alive and healthy should smell this bad, yet the beast did not appear to be at death’s door.
Not yet, anyway.

Suppressing his urge to vomit, Konowa gripped the saddle until his hand and arm muscles burned with pain as the beast jerked its way to a standing position. Konowa looked down at the ground and wished he hadn’t. He knew he was only ten feet up, but from the saddle it felt and looked like a thousand. One small slip and he’d plummet to his death.

“Breathe, Major. It’s actually quite enjoyable once you become used to the height,” the Suljak said, walking his camel up to halt beside Konowa’s. He sat perched on the saddle on the beast’s hump with one leg tucked underneath his body, looking as comfortable as if he were lounging on pillows safely set on the ground.

“I have no intention of being up here long enough to find out,” Konowa said. Now upright, his camel stood stock still, showing no inclination to move. Konowa wasn’t sure if he should kick the beast with the heel of his boot, smack it with the flat side of his saber, snap the reins, or simply shoot it and walk. He knew his preference would be frowned upon. “Any advice on how to ride this thing?”

“Remember that the animal is both emotional and intelligent. It has feelings, and it knows when a rider is afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” Konowa said, “I’m concerned.”

“Of course,” the Suljak said. “Firm grip on the reins, not too tight and not too loose, and enjoy the ride. The camel has done this many times before. All you have to do is sit on top and look majestic.”

Konowa snorted. “I’d rather look tired and dusty down there,” he said, pointing at the ground. The camel suddenly moved a few feet to the right, almost granting Konowa his wish.

The Suljak smiled. “Elves never cease to amaze me. Do you know the ones stationed in the desert outposts are not overly fond of riding either? Some of the tribes thought to take advantage of that fact and raid a few caravans some miles from the nearest outpost, thinking the elves would never patrol that far into the desert. The raiders found to their chagrin that the elves could move rather quickly on two feet.”

Talk of his elves brightened Konowa’s spirits immensely. Pride welled in his chest to hear of their exploits. “You’ve met with them, then? I’ve had a hell of a time trying to get any information about them. Viceroy Alstonfar has been less than forthcoming. He said they prefer the isolation of the desert to the city. I was hoping to talk to him more about them, but he’s been busy all morning with this,” Konowa said, waving around them at the city.

The Suljak grew quiet. “It’s been some time since I’ve been to an outpost. Much of my work of late has been here in Nazalla dealing with the Viceroy. These elves of yours, they are interesting fellows.” The Suljak spoke hesitantly, as if the subject was one he would prefer to not discuss.

“They’re good soldiers,” Konowa said, knowing he sounded defensive and not caring. “In fact, they’re the best there are.”

“Better than the latest crop of Iron Elves?”

Konowa carefully sat up in the saddle and looked around. No troops were within earshot. “I’m proud of the regiment as it is, but when my brethren are reinstated in the Iron Elves and their honor restored, the regiment will truly be whole again.”

“And are you that certain that these elves will rejoin? Do you expect them to take the Blood Oath that now binds you—if the rumors be true—in life and death?”

It was a sticky point. Konowa had envisioned a thousand times his reunion with the elves of his homeland, and he’d never gotten past the initial greeting. He knew what he hoped—that the elves would welcome him as a long-lost brother and pledge their loyalty to him and his fight to overthrow the Shadow Monarch and forever erase Her taint. But would they? Kritton had wanted to kill him all the way through their journey to Luuguth Jor, and he had remained in the relatively civilized land of Elfkyna. What would elves banished to the desert be like, especially when they had committed no crime other than to follow him? Would they see Konowa as their savior, or as the elf who had condemned them to suffer because Konowa, as their commanding officer, murdered the Viceroy of Elfkyna in cold blood for that elf’s suspected ties to the Shadow Monarch? By not bringing the Viceroy up on charges, Konowa’s rash act cast a pall of suspicion on the trustworthiness of all the elves and led to his and, by extension, their downfall.

“Things will work themselves out,” Konowa said, his voice sounding far more confident than he felt.

“I do hope so, but I should warn you, Major—even a short length of time in the desert will change a man, or elf. I would suggest caution in your optimistic approach.”