The Light of Burning Shadows (26 page)

Alwyn looked at Her Emissary, then at Konowa. “You misunderstand…you both do.”

The shades of the Darkly Departed reappeared to stand around Alwyn. Konowa recognized the soldier Meri, and Regimental Sergeant Major Lorian. More and more shades appeared. Their hands reached out to Alwyn, and Konowa heard their cries in his head.
“Save us…save us.”

“You’re a good man, Alwyn Renwar,” Rallie said, her voice radiating calm. “You know what you have to do.”

Every soldier in the Iron Elves watched the Star in Alwyn’s hand. Their fate rested in a ball of blue light none of them understood, just as it had before with another Star.

“You struck a deal with Her,”
Her Emissary said.

Alwyn turned and looked at Her Emissary.
“Yes, with Her…not with you.”
Black frost fire shot from his hands and enveloped Her Emissary in a sheet of twisting black flame. Her Emissary screamed and tried to grab for the Star, but its body was torn away in a gale of flame until nothing remained.

Alwyn calmly looked up, his eyes staring at something only he could see. He lifted the Star up to the sky and let it go. Blue light cascaded outward in waves. Konowa raised his arm to protect his eyes as the light flared like a million suns, then vanished.

When Konowa lowered his arm, a massive tree stretched skyward, its limbs wide and strong. Energy pure and clean radiated from it, washing away the remnants of the ancient power that had poisoned this land for centuries. From deep within the
sarka har,
Her Emissary screamed as the Jewel of the Desert began to push back against Her power. Her Emissary’s vice broke with inconsolable rage at Private Renwar’s deception, and Konowa wondered, perhaps fear at the rise of a new force.

Konowa wanted to find a way to feel glad, to feel something, but nothing came to him.

“Renwar? What have you done?”

The soldier lifted his head and walked forward. When he emerged, the shades of the dead clustered around. His eyes no longer reflected the blue Starlight, but were now gray. The acorn against Konowa’s chest flared in recognition of a power it understood.

“Alwyn’s dead,”
Renwar said, his voice now an eerie match to the former Emissary’s.

Konowa shook his head. “I made a vow, and I will keep it. The oath will be broken and one day you will all be free.”

“I know that,”
Renwar said. The shadows continued to hover around him.

Dread filled Konowa.
What had Renwar done?
He looked around him at the Iron Elves. Konowa looked down at his own hands and called forth the frost fire. It sparked to life as it always had. “You didn’t break the oath,” Konowa said.

“Yes, Major, I did,”
Renwar said.

“I don’t understand,” Konowa said. “What oath did you break?”

“Don’t you see, Major,” Rallie said, smiling sadly as she looked at Alwyn. “He
did
break the oath, only not yours, and not those of the living. He’s freed the dead.”

Konowa looked at the shades. He tried to call them forward, but they ignored him. “Why?”

“She must be destroyed if the oath is to be broken. I could not save you as you live, but I could save those already gone. Now it is up to you to finish the fight.”

The Iron Elves stood in stunned silence. Konowa realized that in a way he never expected he had achieved what he wanted. The power of the oath’s magic remained.

“But what of my elves?” he asked.

“She searches for them still, though she has not found them…yet.”

It was small comfort, but it was something.

“Renwar, I—”

“Alwyn’s dead,”
Renwar said.

Rallie held up her hand before Konowa could reply. “Then who are you?” Rallie asked.

Renwar turned to look at her.
“I’m all that remains.”

“Who are you?!” Konowa shouted. “Tell me who the hell you are!”

Renwar closed his eyes for a moment. A cold clarity gripped Konowa. The shades pressed closer around Renwar, their hands resting on his shoulders. When Renwar’s eyes opened again, Konowa already knew the answer.

“I am Their Emissary now.”

Arr
An aromatic, if bitter, bean grown in hot climates that when dried and then boiled in water creates a drink that awakens and revives.

Bayonet
Typically a ten-inch piece of steel shaped like a dagger and attached to the end of a musket. Used primarily for close-in fighting as a stabbing weapon.

Bengar
A large, carnivorous predator weighing up to eight hundred pounds and usually sporting black fur with dull red stripes, large fangs, and a short tail. The full extent of its range is unknown. One male of the species, Jir, has been adopted as mascot of the Iron Elves.

Black powder
Also known as gunpowder, it is a mixture of coal, sulfur, and saltpeter that when ignited by a spark creates an explosive reaction. Used in muskets and cannons.

Blood Oath
Oath taken by the Iron Elves pledging loyalty to the regiment. Due to Major Konowa Swift Dragon’s possession of an obsidian acorn from the Shadow Monarch’s Silver Wolf Oak at the time of the oath, all the soldiers are now bonded to the regiment and increasingly under Her sway, in death and beyond.

Brindo
A rare deer species native to Elfkyna known for its distinctive dull black hide of interlocking plates and floppy ears.

Cannon
A large length of metal tube with a smooth bore that fires projectiles such as iron cannonballs over long distances. Gunpowder is used as the explosive force. Typically made of brass for smaller sizes and iron for larger ones.

Caerna
Traditional Hyntaland elf garb of cloth worn around the waist and reaching to the knee. Soldiers in the Iron Elves wear caernas though the officers do not as they are often mounted on horses.

Carronade
A very large, short-barreled cannon capable of firing a heavy projectile over short distances.

Colors
Every regiment in the Calahrian Imperial Army carries two large flags known as the Colors into battle. Usually made of cotton with fine wool stitching, one flag bears the Queen’s Royal cypher while the other the regimental crest.

Crute
Rock spice chewed by dwarves. The powder is rich in mineral ores and has the side effect of turning the users teeth metallic in color.

Darkly Departed
The nickname given to the shades of the dead of the Iron Elves.

Dïova Gruss
Elvish, meaning a lost one, referring to an elf that has bonded with a Silver Wolf Oak and been overwhelmed by the purity of its magical powers.

Drakarri
Name for drake spawn that legend suggests were the offspring of the mating between the wizard Kaman Rhal and a she-drake (dragon). The creatures walk on four legs, have large jaws filled with sharp teeth, and spit pure white fire.

Drukar
A heavy, angular blade favored by many dwarves over the battle-axe for its ease of use and durability in battle.

Faeraug
Also known as dog spiders, these eight-legged creatures attack their prey with a pair of curving pincers at the front of their heads.

Halberd
A long pole of perhaps eight feet or more, often topped with a metal spear point and/or axe blade. Carried by N.C.O.s as an easy way to identify them on the field of battle.

Housewife
Small cloth or leather pouch containing such items as a needle and thread used by soldiers to mend their uniforms.

Jewel of the Desert
Name of the Star believed to be returning to the Hasshugeb Expanse.

Korwird
A long and thin multi-legged creature with needle-sharp teeth much like a centipede, except
Korwirds
can grow more than twenty feet in length. Previously thought extinct.

Linstock
A wooden staff that holds a length of lit cord used to ignite the gunpowder in a cannon.

Maiden Works
Dwarf metal foundry specializing in weapons manufacture, especially the
drukar.

Muraphant
Standing more than fifteen feet tall with huge ears, a long trunk, and a pair of curving tusks of black ivory, the animal is used in Elfkyna to carry supplies.

Musket
A muzzle-loading, smooth-bore firearm that fires lead balls by way of a gunpowder charge placed at the base of the barrel by a ramrod.

Puttee
A long strip of cloth used to wrap around a soldier’s leg from the ankle to below the knee.

Rakke
A large, bipedal carnivore growing up to eight feet tall and known for its ferocity and willingness to attack any living thing. Once thought to have been hunted to extinction, its return is credited to the magic of the Shadow Monarch.

Ramrod
A thin metal rod used to press a lead ball and powder charge down the barrel of a musket.

Red Star
Also known as the Star of the East and the Star of Sillra, this Star of Knowledge and Power returned to Elfkyna during the Battle for Luuguth Jor.

Regiment
The standard military unit of the Calahrian Imperial Army, comprising several hundred men armed with muskets and usually lead by an officer holding the rank of colonel.

Rok har
Elvish for tree’s blood, meaning tree sap. As prepared by the Elves of the Long Watch, the liquid acts to give the drinker renewed vitality.

Ryk faur/faurre
Elvish for bond brother/sister referring to the magical bond that is created between an elf and a Wolf Oak.

Saber
A long, curved sword used primarily by the cavalry.

Sarka har
Elvish for blood tree, one of the sapling offspring of the Shadow Monarch’s Silver Wolf Oak. These trees thrive on the blood of the living.

Shabraque
A covering placed over a saddle to protect it from wear. This covering is typically colored and embroidered to signify the regiment the rider belongs to.

Shatterbow
Double-barreled crossbow that fires explosive darts. This is Sergeant Yimt Arkhorn’s main weapon.

Shako
A tall, cylindrical hat with a leather peak worn by soldiers in the Calahrian Imperial Army. It is typically adorned with a metal badge, plumage, or other devices to identify a particular regiment.

Siggers
Nickname given to soldiers in the Calahrian Army derived from the silver-green color of their uniform jackets.

Sreex
A bird with large, leathery wings and a whiskered muzzle instead of a beak. It was once thought to be extinct.

Wolf Oak
Ancient tree species able to channel the natural power of the world. They were brought to a state of sentience by the first elves, and since then form a magical bond with elves. Silver Wolf Oaks are rare and channel the purest energy. Elves bonding with a Silver Wolf Oak typically are unable to cope with the energy and become
dïova gruss
as they lose themselves in the natural order of the world.

At the writing of this I don’t have children, or pets, or even plants—living ones anyway—plants I mean, but I do have family and friends, and my gratitude for their continuing support only grows. The act of writing might be a solitary pursuit, but being a writer doesn’t have to be.

There are two intrepid souls who step fearlessly into the breach time and again as my first readers: my brother Michael and my great friend and artist/writer, Deb Christerson, both of whom read the manuscript multiple times and still profess to like it…and me. Now, that’s friendship.

Equally important in providing encouragement and advice are three exceptional people I met early on in my publishing career. Shelly Shapiro, Chris Schluep, and Bill Takes are great counselors in all things publishing, but even better friends, and I am a better writer, and person, for knowing them.

There’s an ever-expanding group of friends who worked especially hard to keep me sane, healthy, and focused, and to them my debt is high. Whether it was a well-timed joke, a swift kick in the creative process, or simply being there, they made the writing of this book both possible and enjoyable: my aunts, Nancy Whitson and Brenda Sandusky; Col. Robert Black and his wife, Carolyn; Edith Dunker; Peter Ferk; Karen Traviss; Natalie Wessel; and Jeff Young all deserve my sincerest thanks, and they have it.

I want to make special mention of my editor at Pocket Books, Ed Schlesinger. Ed patiently and skillfully talked me through the sophomore issues of a second novel, a task made all the more challenging as, being an editor myself, I know just enough to be really dangerous to the whole process. Ed’s expert guidance made sure everything was smooth sailing.

Thanks, too, to Pocket Books Deputy Publisher Anthony Ziccardi and my agent, Don Maass, for their strong and unwavering support in building my career. I couldn’t have asked for two brighter, or more dedicated, publishing professionals in this regard.

I drew support and encouragement from many others in many different quarters—Mike Bechthold, Charles Coleman Fin-lay, Rome Quezada, Peter Rossi, Shawn Speakman, Jessica Strider, Mark Zug, the superlative staff at the New York Society Library, and the Gracie Mews diner for helping to feed my mind and body; at S&S UK, Sally Partington; at Pocket Books, publisher Louise Burke, Barry Porter, Melissa Gramstad, Lisa Keim, Amre Klimchak, Kerrie Loyd, Jean Anne Rose, and Alan Dingman; and at Stackpole Books, president and fellow author David Detweiler, Janelle Bender, Cathy Craley, Anne Lodge-Smith, David Reisch, web designer Tessa Sweigert, and my other publisher and supporter, Judith Schnell.

And finally—and always—my parents. Without them, I would not be where I am, or who I am, today.

Chris Evans
New York City, March 2009