By Chris Evans
We don't worry the flame, although it burns us,
We don't worry the hearth, although it consumes us,
And we don't worry its light,
Though it unearths the darkness of our souls,
For therein lies our power.
-- Blood Oath of the Iron Elves
First in a gorgeous debut sequence, A Darkness cast in hearth introduces an unforgiving global of musket and cannon...bow and arrow...magic, international relations, and oaths -- every one wielding poor energy in an Empire teetering on the point of war.
In this global, Konowa fast Dragon, former commander of the Empire's elite Iron Elves, is seemed upon as something yet traditional. He's murdered a Viceroy, been court-martialed, obvious his cherished regiment disbanded, and at last been banished in shame to the only position he despises the main -- the forest.
Now, all he wishes is to be left by myself along with his misery...but for Konowa, not anything is ever that easy. The mysterious and inviting Visyna Tekoy, the highborn daughter of an elfkynan governor, seeks him out within the risky wild with a royal decree that he resume his fee as an officer in Her Majesty's Imperial military, potent immediately.
For within the east, a falling purple famous person heralds the go back of a magic lengthy vanished from the earth. uprising grows in the Empire as a frantic race to arrive the celebrity unfolds. it's a probability for Konowa to redeem himself -- whether the full affair seems to be doomed to be a suicide mission...
and that the warriors recruited for the duty aren't in any respect what he expects. And worse, his key adversary within the perilous race for the megastar is the scary Shadow Monarch -- a mythical elf-witch whose machinations for absolute domination unfold deeper than Konowa may ever imagine....
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Additional resources for A Darkness Forged in Fire (The Iron Elves, Book 1)
Probably not. The huge wolf circled the body, head low and turned inward to keep the unconscious mortal within sight of its lone eye. The Warren of Chaos had few visitors. Among those few, mortal humans were rarest of all. The wolf had wandered this violent landscape for a time that was, to it, immeasurable. Alone and lost for so long, its mind had found new shapes born of solitude; the tracks of its thoughts twisted on seemingly random routes. Few would recognize awareness or intelligence in the feral gleam of its eye, yet they existed none the less.
The Jaghut had not unveiled her warren. Even more disconcerting, where were her children? 'She greets us with calm,' Cannig Tol muttered. 'She does,' the Bonecaster agreed. ' 'She would speak with us,' Pran Chole said. ' 'I cannot disagree, Clan Leader. Yet ... ' Pran Chole shook his head. 'Prepare your spearmen,' he said, stepping forward. There was peace in her eyes, so clear an acceptance of her own imminent death that the Bonecaster was shaken. Pran Chole walked through shin-deep water, then stepped onto the island's sandy bank to stand face to face with the Jaghut.
Mortal, in the ravages of age, in the pain of wounds and the anguish of despair. In dreams brought to ruin. In love withered. ' Their sister said, 'Kallor Eiderann Tes'thesula, each time you rise, you shall then fall. All that you achieve shall turn to dust in your hands. ' 'Three voices curse you,' K'rul intoned. ' The man on the throne trembled. His lips drew back in a rictus snarl. 'I shall break you. Each of you. I swear this upon the bones of seven million sacrifices. K'rul, you shall fade from the world, you shall be forgotten.