The third rakke leaped and took Renwar to the ground. Konowa raised his saber to strike again, but a fist-sized hole suddenly appeared in the rakke’s back and frost fire flew out. Konowa kicked the body to the side and reached down a hand to help Renwar up, then took it back in surprise. Black flames, darker and more intense than any Konowa himself had yet conjured, blazed in the young soldier’s hands. Konowa tried to read Renwar’s face, but the flame reflected in the soldier’s spectacles made it appear as if his very eyes were afire.

“Behind you, Major.”

The black acorn sent a cold sliver of warning into Konowa’s heart as he turned to confront a group of rakkes carrying jagged shards of wood.

“Get your arse in the sand now!” bellowed a voice from the water’s edge. Konowa dove forward even as the rakkes moved to within yards of him. One raised a makeshift club and began to swing it down.

A cannon boomed and the world vanished. Smoke and sand whipped over Konowa, partially lifting him off the ground. Sparks stung the back of his hands and neck as the unmistakable sound of heavy metal sawing through the air passed overhead. His nose and ears clogged with sand and something wet. Black and white and orange flashes danced across the inside of his eyelids.

Konowa blinked several times and propped himself up to his elbows. The chain shot had done its job well. What was left of the rakkes lay in a congealing puddle of blood and debris. It looked as if the dwarf was determined to keep his stripes this time.

“Renwar, are you-” Konowa started to ask, but the soldier had already gotten up and was charging off deeper into the trees. Frost fire blazed in the soldier’s hands and along the length of his musket. With no time to ponder the matter, Konowa got to his feet and dusted himself off. He flexed his right hand, holding his saber, and found that it still had strength.