Free The Alterra Histories: The Fire King by C. S. Marks Page A

their weapons, for they were neither experienced nor strong enough yet to summon their Inner Light. Still they made good progress, swinging their swords with lethal precision.
    No evil being could long endure Aincor’s light—they all wailed and shrank back as the King strode forward, cutting a wide swath with sweeping strokes of his blade. Vathan turned his attention to his own concerns, relieved that all seemed well for the moment, until he noticed something quite strange. Two of the Èolarin warriors, both of the Raven clan, appeared to be fighting each other! They fought with all their skill until one managed to sever the other’s sword-arm. He fell, helpless, but his attacker did not relent, even when the wounded Elf appeared to plead for his life. His head came neatly away from his neck, an expression of uncomprehending anguish still on his face, as the one who had vanquished him stepped over his now-lifeless body as though it were of no concern.
    Vathan was confused and horrified. He stood, his sword-arm slack at his side, wondering whether his eyes had deceived him. Yet now he saw another Elf, this one battling a troll, suddenly stop fighting and lower his blade. He turned his back to the troll as though it wasn’t there, taking perhaps two steps before the great, stony hands grasped him and tore him limb-from-limb.
    Vathan saw a dark veil moving across the stone of the fortress, settling around Wrothgar’s defenders one by one. When it did so, the Elves would turn their attentions elsewhere, allowing the enemy to strike them from behind. Then the shade would surround one of the Elves, who would soon find himself attacked by those he had thought were friends, falling quickly in his confusion.
    There was some devilry at work here, and Vathan quickly realized that the dark, shadowy veil had much to do with it. If no one realized what was happening, they would all be deceived! “PEOPLE OF LIGHT! HEAR ME!” Vathan cried, but few could hear him over the riot of battle. Those who stood nearest turned their attention to Vathan long enough that he could continue. He had to get his people to fall back, to be made aware of what was happening to them. “FALL BACK! RALLY! RALLY TO ME! YOU ARE ALL BEWILDERED! FALL BACK!” Several of the Elves within earshot stayed their blades, looks of conflict and confusion on their faces. This unidentified Elf in dragon-armor had no authority to order them—they moved at the command of the Fire-heart. But they turned to one another as though considering.
    The Shadow moved quickly, as it did not wish to be unmasked. It turned upon Vathan, who stood helpless as the black veil surrounded him. He felt horrific violence, hunger and lust envelop him, drawing away his strength, as two of Aincor’s warriors, shocked to see a hideous troll standing where the unknown dragon-warrior had been only moments earlier, turned their blades on him. Vathan fought like a cornered eagle, screaming in frustration, trying to free himself from the illusion. Summoning whatever strength he could, he flared up like a shooting star, throwing off the Shadow, who, not to be denied, assailed one of Vathan’s would-be attackers. Immediately, the Elf transformed into a repulsive, misshapen Ulca. He was run through from behind by his own astonished brother.
    To Vathan’s horror, as the dying Elf crumpled to the ground, the Shadow engulfed his spirit as it tried to leave his body. Vathan heard the Elf wail as his soul was consumed, and he heard the insane, hideous laughter of the thing that fed upon it. The hunger and lust of the Shadow would never be satiated.
    Horrified, Vathan shouted again: “FALL BACK! WHAT YOU SEE IS NOT WHAT IS! YOU ARE KILLING EACH OTHER! FALL
    BACK!” Then he noticed a stealthy figure through the haze, creeping forward from the rear of the ranks—a wagon-driver in a green hood— and his blood went cold.
     
    ~~
     
    Aincor pressed forward, unseeing and unaware of the terrible fate his