Konowa’s anger surged. Her elves had learned a new trick. Well, so had his boys.

“Cannon…second volley…fire!”

The cannon roared again, but this time Arkhorn had loaded it with chain shot. It was simple in design and lethal in use. Two cannonballs attached by a length of chain flew from the muzzle and began spinning, scything down everything in their path. Originally intended to cut through the masts of enemy ships, chain shot was equally effective at tearing through Her forest, and the creatures in it.

“Remember, we want to try to capture one of the elves!” Konowa shouted, knowing it was likely futile. And even if they did capture one, Konowa wasn’t sure what good it would do. These elves were as dark and twisted as the Shadow Monarch’s trees.

Screams of rage and pain among the rakkes lifted high into the sky as the keel of the boat ground to a halt in the sand. Konowa used the momentum to leap ashore, but he was already several paces behind Private Renwar and Jir. Konowa knew his place was with the men, leading them in a methodical march across the island, but all his pent-up rage spilled forth as it had on every island before this. He knew in his heart this was about revenge. The Shadow Monarch had used his father, in a ploy to get to him, and in so doing bound Konowa and the new Iron Elves in an eternal oath. She haunted all their dreams now, calling to them. Konowa felt the pull, but he felt something else more; fury.

Frost fire burned wickedly along the blade of Konowa’s saber. He grinned and charged, looking for things to kill.